


Our Hearts' Desire

by teareadknitsleep



Series: The Monkees Family [2]
Category: The Monkees (Band), The Monkees (TV)
Genre: #MeToo, Alcoholics Anonymous, F/M, Feminism, Recovery, Recreational Drug Use, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:11:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 175,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26270155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teareadknitsleep/pseuds/teareadknitsleep
Summary: The Monkees finally hit the big time.  They score a recording contract and a national tour, and become a sensation.  Even as they sell millions of records and play to packed concert halls, however, they struggle for artistic and creative freedom, control of their image, respect from the music industry and critical acclaim.  There are also tensions within the band, and Micky and Gabby quietly work to hold everyone together as the family they have become.In the meantime, everyone's personal life is on the ascendancy, with relationships and commitments becoming solidified and promises being fulfilled.  With these changes come individual challenges and confrontations that threaten to rip the couples and even the whole group apart.  Once again, it's the Monkees family bond as a whole that supports each member and keeps everyone on track.Most surprising of all, Micky and Davy find themselves changing from best friends to rivals.  They're both in love with Gabby, and Micky has made some spectacularly bad choices that leaves the field open to Davy to swoop in and plead his case to Gabby.  Who will she choose?
Relationships: Davy Jones (Monkees)/Original Female Character(s), Michael Nesmith/Original Female Characters, Micky Dolenz/Original Female Character(s), Mike Nesmith/Original Female Character(s), Peter Tork/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Monkees Family [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889890
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's helpful to read Volume 1 of this story first.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, based on the characters in the show The Monkees. No aspersions are meant.

## Author's Note

Welcome to Volume 2 in the[ Monkees Family Series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889890). It's not essential for you to read [Volume 1](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22546906/chapters/53877451), but I highly recommend it so that you understand everyone's personality and backstory. This is particularly relevant for the original characters I've created, and for the major plot point of conflict I've created in this volume that will involve Davy and Micky. That said, feel free to dive in here, since I have filled in the gaps for those who didn't read Volume 1.

An important disclaimer is that I fudged the historical timeline of the Monkees' career trajectory. It starts off at least a year later in terms of when their first album dropped. This is so that I could have them attend the Monterey Pop Festival in Volume 1. This experience was key to them getting discovered as a band, since in my version of the Monkees, there was no television show and I wanted to find an entertaining way to help them get discovered. 

My Monkees are a combination of the fictional guys who lived together at the Pad and played together in a band, and the real guys who lived the lives of Mike, Micky, Peter and Davy. Eventually, the timeline catches up with itself and gets closer to the way things really happened. As an invaluable source of information, I consulted Andrew Sandoval's excellent book _The Monkees: The Day-By-Day Story of the 60s TV Pop Sensation._ It's an amazingly detailed account of what the Monkees were doing virtually every single day of their heyday and it made for an excellent roadmap for this story, helping to lend authenticity to it that I could never have conjured on my own. As for their post-Monkees careers, I took major liberties with the timeline again to fit the narrative, as it makes for a more interesting story and it's just not that important to follow IMDB.com to the letter as to what exact date Micky made what movie or television show or when he and Davy went back out on the road together. So please just suspend your disbelief and go with it. It's more entertaining in my alternate universe.

That said, a lot of this story is just pure imagination. I've created many original characters whom I hope you've grown to like over the course of Volume 1 or will enjoy meeting in this story. I've taken only small parts of the Monkees' actual personal biographies as inspiration, and, like in Volume 1, I've inserted them into real life historical events that they did not actually participate in or witness. I wanted to immerse them in the culture and history of the period in which they lived, and this was just a fun diversion. I've researched everything thoroughly, and hopefully you'll be entertained and maybe even learn something and be touched emotionally. I've also given character defects and foibles to certain people who definitely have never admitted to having them at least publicly, so I'll drop another disclaimer again that this is a work of fiction and I mean no libel or to cast aspersions. Everyone in this story is perfectly imperfect, as are we all.

Thank you for reading my story. Please comment and vote. I appreciate hearing what you think and interacting with you!


	2. Chapter 2

Racing up Pacific Coast Highway, Micky drove his newly refurbished motorcycle into the wind with Gabby snuggled behind him, pressing herself into his back, wrapping her arms around his front, molding herself to him, making him think of her special way of expressing her love for him: "We are one." He paused at the corner of PCH and Mulholland Highway, turning around to inquire, "Ready to take those curves on the road that I compared to your gorgeous body, my Gabby, the ones that are exciting, enticing, challenging, memorable, exhilarating and unrepeatable? The ones that make the ride worthwhile?"

"I'm ready, Captain. Full speed ahead," Gabby confirmed, falling back into their habit of talking in Trekkie geek speak.

"On our way down we'll be in Warp speed," Micky enthused. "Assuming Scotty hasn't been toking on the job and let us down on this engine."

"Wait a minute, Kirk," Gabby interrupted, "you fixed this bike up, so that would make you Scotty. Either that or you snuck in while he was trippin' out, did his job and now you're looking for a scapegoat in case your mechanical skills turn out to be not so hot. Leave my Scottish comrade alone. The success or failure of this mission is on you alone."

"Who are you while you're lecturing me, Spock or Uhura?" Micky asked, since Gabby liked to toggle between the two characters depending on her mood, mostly based on her libido.

"Oh, I'm definitely Uhura right now. So let's get underway and start this adventure, Captain."

Micky reached back for a kiss, revved the engine, turned the wheel to the right and they began the steep ascent up the winding mountains of Malibu that overlooked the Pacific Ocean. It was an odd contrast — sand, then road, then steep mountains, like the world's creator just got bored and decided to go ahead and mix and patch two magnificent types of topography together like a crazy quilt, with the road as the jagged, nonsensical dividing line.

Up, up and up they drove, on a precipitously winding hill that at certain points was more like a switchback where they could see the curve they had just left almost parallel to them. There were large swaths of private property on their left and canyon on their right. Trees dominated, but there were also wild fennel and mustard plants, as well as cactus plants of various species and sizes. Hawks floated above the canyons, searching for their next meal.

Eventually they crested the top of the mountain and it turned into meadowland, with fields of wildflowers, weeds and trees, with no real apparent markers of ownership or habitation. They found a place that looked fairly secluded and shady and stopped the bike, hopped off and removed the picnic basket that they had brought along. They spread out a blanket and flopped down upon it, glorying in the sunshine and the warmth of its rays.

It was the end of summer, just before Labor Day, and Gabby had finally mended from the injuries she had sustained as a result of being attacked by numerous police officers who had scapegoated her in her role as a protest monitor at an anti-war rally when President Johnson had been in town for a fundraiser in late June. She had received a concussion, bruised ribs and kidneys, a broken finger and various other injuries. This of course excluded the psychological damage she sustained and that, combined with some past trauma she had suffered as a result of an abusive boyfriend, finally prompted her to seek help from a therapist. She spoke with a psychologist at a new women's clinic that had just opened up recently. She also was pursuing a lawsuit against the city and the cops who beat her, with help from the American Civil Liberties Union, which had issued a detailed report about the protest that laid out a gruesome blow-by-blow timeline and description of the police department's dereliction of duty to protect and enforce the law, and how it created the conditions for the confrontation that led to utter chaos and so many injuries.

When Micky visited Gabby in the hospital, he had promised that as soon as she was better and healed, he would take her out for a ride on his refurbished motorcycle. This bike was one he had purchased with his cousin George, meant for them to enjoy together, but George had perished in the Vietnam War, leaving behind him a family with three surviving siblings, and a girlfriend in mourning. For Micky, fixing up the bike and enjoying it without him had felt sacrilegious and he had let it lie fallow. But then Gabby had been so brave helping to lead the anti-war protest and stayed at her post, trying to rescue others from being beaten and sustained numerous brutal beatings herself, and he realized that George would have wanted Micky too pay tribute to him and to Gabby's efforts by finishing the work on the bike and giving it the life it was meant to have. So while Gabby mended her body, Micky mended the bike.

In that intervening time, Micky and Gabby had also worked hard to mend their broken relationship. They had had a blowout argument a few days before the protest, and hadn't seen or spoken to each other until Micky rushed to the intensive care unit to be by her side as she struggled to regain consciousness. The argument was triggered by Gabby's refusal of Micky's offer to stay with her during the march to protect her. He felt rejected and also took it as a slight to his manhood, particularly as he depended on her to help him get through playing at the Monkees' gigs, which had become increasingly traumatic for him since he had gotten sexually assaulted by one of the hordes of groupies and then later stalked by her.

In the midst of the argument, however, an old grievance had gotten raked up, which was Micky's desire to have children, or at least to keep that possibility open, and Gabby's almost certain desire not to. Gabby's lack of enthusiasm for having children was centered primarily in her own individual reasons having to do with her personality, family history and career ambitions. But a small part of her reluctance did relate to what she felt was Micky's unsuitability as a parent, at least at this point in his life and for the profession he had chosen. Micky, like herself, was still very immature and had a lot of growing up to do. He had proven that many times over in the short few months she had known him and been dating him. Moreover, he was a working musician with ambitions of becoming a rock star, and that lifestyle didn't seem to lend itself to devoting oneself to fatherhood in the responsible way that Gabby felt was required. She knew of what she spoke, having had a very hardworking, absentee father herself.

They had come to what she had thought was a truce to not rule out having children but to acknowledge that it was unlikely given their dispositions and circumstances and to just carry on with their lives and see where things led, but Micky had been unable to resist revisiting the topic in a cruel and brutal fashion in the midst of an argument in front of their whole Monkees family, consisting of his bandmates and Gabby's best friends, whom they were dating, and it was like picking off a scab from a wound that wasn't nearly healed. Blood came gushing out and all sorts of hurt ensued on both sides, and they had separated and not spoken to each other for several days, until Gabby ended up in the ICU and Micky realized what was truly important to him was to have Gabby in his life.

Micky had admitted first to himself and then to her that he wasn't actually hung up about the having kids issue, and that he had just lashed out at her because of the hurt he felt over her rejection of his support for her at the march. They agreed that what they were left with was the unavoidable conclusion that Micky was still too immature to be making the types of commitments he wanted or should be asking Gabby to make, which is what she had been saying all along. So they agreed to return to their former terms of peace, which was that they would be committed to a loving and exclusive relationship with the intention of hopefully spending the rest of their lives together and if and when the moment came when they were ready to commit to it and they could afford it, their first big step would be to move in together and get a dog or two. Gabby also agreed to consider marriage but only as a mutually agreed upon decision and one that she would not be rushed into.

So where they were now was about three quarters of the way back to the place of trust and ease of where they had been before the big argument. The easy banter, the inside jokes, the nicknames and the verbal expressions of mutual affection were all there. But the physical affection had not yet been restored beyond kissing, hugging and stroking each other affectionately with clothes on. They had not re-consummated their love. This was partly due to the grave nature of Gabby's injuries, but also because there had been a significant breach of trust, and Gabby had a history of being psychologically, emotionally and sexually abused by a previous boyfriend in college, the last guy she dated before she met Micky, and she felt she could not yet allow him to be intimate with her. Her mind and body were still erecting barriers. Until today. Today, when he suggested they take that motorcycle ride he had promised her, she felt the gates to her boundaries creak open and something loosen in the protective shield she had erected. She sensed healing taking place and trust returning. That's what she had tried to signal to him with their lighthearted Star Trek banter. It had always been their habit, in days past, to create fantasy scenarios for their lovemaking, and to do role playing or to find ways of making it unconventional, or "tutti frutti," not vanilla, as Gabby liked to express it.

They had unpacked their picnic and Micky reached for a cube of cheese and a cracker, but Gabby snatched it away from him.

"What, are you going to starve me into submission, my Gabby?"

Gabby gave a look of intense reflection and said "Hmmm, not a half-bad thought. But no, that's not part of this set piece. I'm going to feed you and take care of you. You've been doing that for me for months. Now it's my turn."

Micky's eyes widened with surprise and then anticipation of pleasure and got that dreamy, faraway look she knew meant he was setting the scene in his mind, the scene of their fantasy, but this time she was in charge of the action. He opened his mouth and leaned in towards her and waggled his tongue out at her. She smiled and dropped a bit of cheese and cracker in. He received it with a grin and chewed thoughtfully.

Next came a carrot stick, which Micky decided it would be funny and enjoyable to fellate. He got a bit carried away, though and ended up giving both the carrot and Gabby's finger a blowjob, which made her giggle and squirm. She asked him offhandedly "ever popped a cherry?" and he started to choke and clear his throat. She patted his back to clear his airway, then plucked a cherry tomato out of a bag and held it up in front of his face and then shoved hit in his mouth. He finished chewing and then said "You really are full of piss and vinegar today, aren't you?" Gabby sat back, gave a smug smile and responded with a classic Nesmithian answer: "Yup."

They chatted and ate and Micky insisted on getting fair play and feeding Gabby. Grapes were the finale, and Micky turned it into a basketball game, with the two of them aiming at each other's mouths from further and further distances. Gabby reflected that with Micky, everything had the potential to be fun, an adventure, a game, a drama, a dream, a fantasy, a unique experience. He was like no one she had ever met and he constantly brought her senses to a heightened state.

They lazed in the sunshine, which was becoming quite warm. Micky took off his shirt to maximize his contact with the sun. "You're like a cat sleeping in the rays, aren't you, Micky?" He gave a cat stretch of his long, lean limbs and a purrrrrrr in agreement. Gabby felt her insides do a giddy up she hadn't felt in a long time. She ran her hands over his bare skin and he squirmed and rubbed himself against her, continuing his impression of a cat.

The first time Gabby had seen Micky without his shirt was at a softball game she and her bookstore coworkers were playing. Micky was brought in as a ringer because their best player had been knobbled. They were tentatively dating but hadn't even held hands yet, but the minute she saw him shirtless, saw his defined torso and lean arm muscles, and most of all saw those devastatingly cute pink nipples, she knew he had the capacity to turn her into a wild animal. Now she was feeling that same yearning balanced on the edge of wanton abandon. As she had not felt since before their argument, the barrier she had erected between them began to soften, if not crumble, so she took one index finger and traced around his right nipple.

Micky shivered and sensed a change in the vibrations between them, but he held still and waited to see what she would do with no encouragement from him. He had always maintained that their relationship, particularly the physical aspect of it, needed to be not just voluntary and equal, but contain the type of consent that was of a heightened level amounting to a primal request. He had always said that she needed to let him know what she wanted, and that he would only give it to her when she was ready, asking for it, begging for it, giving her absolute, confident, unequivocal consent. It had to be that way between them because of Gabby's past trauma with her previous abusive boyfriend Nick, and now he felt it was even more important because of the retreat she had made for such a sustained period of time.

Touch was a huge part of how they expressed their love. Not sex and not just making love, but touch. They had actually taken a relatively slow and deliberate journey in becoming physically intimate, so committed were they both to making that transition meaningful and safe for both of them. Micky himself had carried into the relationship his own baggage as a reformed groupie groper who used to pick out a new girl after every gig and have a one night stand with her, which was a total turnoff to Gabby since her ex-boyfriend had been of a similar disposition as a charismatic student political leader who was constantly cheating on her with his own phalanx of groupies.

Most crucial, however, was the bridge of trust they had carefully built that had surmounted the hideous violation Gabby had suffered at Nick's hands. Her ex had raped and sodomized her, the ultimate counterpoint to Micky's commitment to the highest hurdles of consent for every encounter he and Gabby ever had. He had never once touched her without reading her mood first, nor suggested any type of sexual byplay without talking it through with her first. But at the heart of their relationship was love expressed through touch. Kisses, hugs, fingers run through the hair, hands clasped or squeezed, bodies pressed together, leaning on each other, limbs crossed casually over the other as they sat near each other. What they didn't say with their words they often said with their bodies. It was the ultimate expression of trust between them and represented the monument to love that they had built together.

There had been one other time during their relationship when Gabby withdrew from physical contact with Micky that had only lasted about three days, and while she took that time to process her feelings, he was in agony. Now it had been over two months since they had shared more than a chaste kiss or caress, but in that time, Micky's perspective and sense of proportion had changed. He also hoped that he had done some growing and changing in that intervening time, which Gabby indicated was conditional for both of them for the success of their relationship and long term happiness. Now, the longer he waited for her to give him the go ahead to touch her, the more cleansed of the bad vibes of their past disagreement he felt, and the closer to her his heart drew. It felt like a spiritual cleansing instead of a miserable fast.

So it was with surprise and delight that he felt Gabby take the initiative and touch him first. He had no decisions to make nor boundaries to negotiate. All he had to do was to lie back and enjoy her fond, loving touch. But then that touch had shifted gears. Now it was sensual, arousing, unmistakably sexual, and he welcomed it with not just pleasure but gratitude, relief and wonder. As she lazily drew circles around his nipples with her finger, a single tear descended from his eye and slid down his cheek to his ear. She leaned forward to kiss it away and whispered quietly "It's okay, Micky. I'm coming home. We'll get there. Together."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

Micky and Gabby stumbled into the Pad giggling and out of breath from the rush of their grand motorcycle ride. What they found when they entered the rundown beach house was disconcerting to the extreme. Michael was sitting at the kitchen table staring off into space as if he had been lobotomized or struck by lightning and had lost brain function. Micky walked towards him and waved a hand in front of his face, asking "Hey, Mike, what's up? You okay?" but he got no response. He and Gabby exchanged looks of grave concern. Gabby held the back of her hand to Mike's forehead and asked him if he was feeling okay.

He suddenly came to consciousness and then stood up from his chair, took a deep breath and gave an enormous shout: "YEEEHAWWWW!!!!" He looked like a rooster at sunrise, with his chest puffed out and a red face, scraping his boots on the floor like talons.

Micky and Gabby exchanged bewildered and more concerned glances, worried their friend had gone plum _loco_ and despaired of his loss of sanity. Mike grabbed their hands and started a happy dance that turned into a square dance do si do and his infectious jubilation spread to Micky and Gabby even though they didn't know what they were happy about, but they just joined in and began to laugh. Finally, Gabby yelled "Mike, what are we celebrating? What's happened?"

Mike came down to Earth and sat back down on his chair with a thump. "We got it. A call. A record company. A recording contract offer. Not just the single. A whole damn record. A tour. The whole thing."

Now it was Micky and Gabby's turn to go _loco_. They shouted and screamed and hugged each other, then Mike, then each other again. Micky shrieked "Where's Peter, where's Davy? We need to talk about this. We need details. When do they want to meet us? Have they already heard us play live, or did they just hear the demo? Spill it, Mike!"

Gabby decided that some fresh air might wake up Mike's brain and she ushered them out to the patio to talk. Just at that moment, Peter and Davy came in, staggering under the weight of numerous grocery bags. Davy was grumbling "Pete, I don't know why I let you talk me into this every bloomin' time. Why can't we make more than one trip in with the bags?"

"Because we're building up our upper body strength and saving our inner wavelengths for more important things in our lives."

Gabby caught this bit of dialogue and interjected "Yeah, like strategizing about how you're going to handle the offer for a major recording contract you just got." She was grinning with all her teeth gleaming as the two guys' expressions ranged from shock to disbelief then to pure joy. They dropped their bags on the floor and started hugging each other, then Davy asked "Wait, how do you know about this and we don't?"

"Mike just got the call. He and Micky are out on the patio. Get out there and do your thing. I'll take care of the groceries."

They each hugged her before they ran outside. She heard a collective cheer penetrate the air and smiled to herself. They were having a moment they had worked and waited for for years, and she wanted to leave them to themselves to enjoy it. After about a half hour, she poked her head out the door and asked if they wanted to call their girls or if she should, since she assumed a celebration needed to be organized as soon as possible. Mike and Pete wanted to call their girlfriends themselves and raced each other to the phone. Mike got there first and called Wendy, Gabby's best friend since childhood, who was at work at Wallichs Music City, and who acted as the Monkees' de facto music agent by virtue of the connections she had made through her job there. Peter then called his fiancée Dawn, Gabby and Wendy's roommate, at the head shop where she ran the business and just let the stoner owner think he did. Finally, Davy called his ex-girlfriend Lynda, with whom he was still close friends, at the fancy clothing boutique where she worked, to alert her. There was much squealing and shrieking audible to Gabby through the phone receiver, and the gals agreed to hurry over to the Pad as soon as they got off work.

Even though Peter and Davy had just returned from the market, they had bought only the boring types of food that got eaten on normal days, not stuff that was fit for a celebration. As Mike, Gabby and Micky swooped by the grocery store and the liquor store to stock up with the good stuff, Gabby paused to reflect on past celebrations they had held. There was the party they threw the day that Davy flunked his physical when he was drafted by the U.S. Armed Services, after weeks of starving himself and exercising like a maniac in order to come in underweight, thus escaping an almost certain death sentence in the jungles of Vietnam. There was another party they held the first time the guys visited the girls' apartment, when Gabby and Micky had slow-danced and Micky asked her for a do-over after making such a terrible first impression on her when he tried to seduce her for a one night stand like she was a groupie, and formally requested the chance to court her properly, respectfully and with honorable intentions. She remembered less convivial gatherings they organized, like the weeklong escape to Wendy's parents' house in Palm Springs to try to heal or at least anesthetize Micky's broken heart and soul after he heard the news of his cousin's death in Vietnam. Whether in good times or bad, their instinct always was to gather together and eat, drink and be one. They had become a family, as Gabby liked to view them, and they all now referred to themselves as the Monkees family. But _this_ celebration, this one would have to be one for the books, one for the ages, a party that they'd tell their children and grandchildren about, or at least those of them who were going to have such offspring, she thought to herself wryly.

When they returned, everyone took turns on the phone calling up friends and inviting them over for the party. Gabby approached Davy and asked him whether he had called her friend Debbie, whom he had been hovering around as a potential girlfriend without actually establishing a solid connection yet. He had previously confided in Gabby that he was spooked about making a move on her because of her resemblance to the innocent college girl that Gabby had once been before she had been despoiled by her debauched ex-boyfriend Nick. Davy was still having a crisis of confidence, having been a longtime professional groupie groper whereas Micky had been a greenhorn amateur. His last girlfriend, Lynda, had finally succeeded in convincing him that he was better than that and that he had more to give and certainly more to live for than that, but now he was living in a state of paralysis in terms of his love life and couldn't seem to figure out how to forgive himself for his seedy, hedonistic past and move on.

"Nah, I didn't call her. I'm haven't talked to her in about three weeks."

Gabby's brow furrowed and her eyes darkened. Debbie was her friend and comrade in arms from the anti-war protest, and she had promised to kick Davy's ass if he stepped out of line and mistreated her. "Did you dump her?"

Davy folded his arms over his chest defensively and jutted his chin out and said "No, I didn't, Gabby. I dumped meself. I don't want to hurt her, y'see? And the way I look at it, that's all she'll get if she dates me. She's young and innocent and fresh, and I'm used up and been around the block too many times. I don't know how to give. All I do is take. Whatever I touch turns out rotten and then I'm alone again and back on the prowl. I'm like Dracula. I can only come out at night and I suck the life out of everyone I come into contact with."

Gabby put her hands on Davy's arms and broke through the defensive hold he had on himself to give him a hug. "Davy, Davy, that just isn't true! You've got to stop bludgeoning yourself for your past."

"'ow can I? Every time I look at you I see it. I see every sin I ever committed, Gabby. I see all the pain I've caused, all the wrongs I've done, all the women I hurt and used for me own pleasure and then walked away from like they were disposable, like toilet paper I'd used to wipe me arse!"

Gabby was stunned into silence. She had no idea that she had gotten so far under Davy's skin. There had been an occasion when Gabby had shared with the whole Monkees family what had happened between her and Nick, and of all of them, Davy had taken the news the hardest. When he started dating Debbie, he had immediately drawn a comparison in his mind between Gabby and her, and Gabby had thought it an encouraging sign and praised him for it, hoping it would lead to Davy's first ever healthy, long-term relationship. But now it was all twisting up inside of him like a coiled snake and eating him up, extinguishing any chance for making a go of it with Debbie. Gabby was appalled that she had played such a part in this perverse turn of events.

"You aren't being fair to yourself or Debbie, Davy, and for that matter, you're not really being fair to me either. I told you my story to help educate you and the others about what it's like to be traumatized by sexual assault and psychological and emotional abuse, and to make you see that both Micky and I had suffered from it — me with Nick and Micky from getting mauled by that groupie. I wanted you all to understand that it didn't matter whether it was a woman or a man who had undergone the trauma, the fact is that once it's happened, heed must be paid to the after effects and respect must be given to the healing process. Now what about any of that scenario even remotely resembles anything you've ever done to a woman?"

Davy blinked uncomprehendingly. "Huh? I don't get that."

"You're drawing a straight line between me and my situation with Nick and you and your sexual history. So I'm asking you, Davy. Did you ever rape a woman? Did you ever get a woman drunk and wait till she passed out so you could do something to her body you knew she didn't want you to do or that would be too painful to do while she was conscious, like fucking her up the ass? Did you ever psychologically or emotionally torment and abuse a woman? Have you ever shamed a woman and systematically broken down her self-esteem? Have you asked a woman to have a threesome with you and insisted when she said no and got her drunk and high to force her into it? Have you ever asked a woman to have sex with another woman while you watched so you could get your jollies and when she said no told her she was a worthless cunt? Those are all things Nick did to me. If you can say yes to any of those questions, then you can go ahead and feel the way you've been feeling and blame yourself the way you have been. But if you can't own any of those actions, then you have no business claiming them, and you have no right dragging me and my story into yours. I won't let you destroy your life based on what happened to me. I know you feel like shit about what you've done in the past, but you're getting all mixed up about what's yours and what isn't. Don't take on Nick's sick sins and don't take on my baggage. I won't allow it and I can't live with it. You get me? Now answer those questions I asked you. Is the answer yes to any of them?"

Davy shook his head slowly. "No. I didn't do any of that." His lip trembled and then a tear fell from his eye and then another and another from the other one. He took a shaky breath and then said "I'm so sorry, Gabby. I'm so, so sorry."

Gabby gave him a hug and rubbed his back. "It's okay, Davy. It's okay. You couldn't see the whole picture. I just want you to be happy and to stop hurting yourself. Micky did the same thing when we started dating and he went cold turkey on his old lifestyle, and it was awful watching him go through the same exorcism you're going through. I guess it's taking you longer and it's going harder for you because you were in so much deeper. But don't think for a moment that I'm giving up on you or that you aren't redeemable. You know how I say I love you? I say we are one. That goes for all of you guys. Our whole Monkees family. Our fortunes rise and fall together. So I'm not going to rest until we find you a good woman." Now she was grinning at him and managed to coax a smile out of him by poking his cheek and tickling him under his chin.

"Now go and call your girl. Unless maybe she just _isn't_ your girl. That's possible, too, Davy. Maybe you need a woman, not a girl. But your happiness is really dependent on your loving yourself first. So maybe that time you're spending on your own is the best thing of all. Micky and I both have figured that out, too. Isn't life a puzzlement?"

"Yeah, it sure is. I'm glad to be walking through it with good mates and gals like you and Lynda to clue me in on the women's point of view."

"Are you going to call Debbie?"

"No. She's too young. She really does haunt me. I know what you're saying, I'm not Nick, but she's you before Nick. I need to find someone who's been around the block. Someone I can be meself with. Someone like you." He gave her a long, appreciative look of frank appraisal that made her breath catch just a bit and stick in the back of her throat.

"You'll find her, Davy. But not if you walk around like Mr. Hyde. Ease up on yourself. Now let's go party! You're about to get your heart's desire!" She gamboled away towards the patio where everyone else was gathered. Davy's gaze followed her out the door, thinking about what his heart's desire might be if he had no obstacles or no morals that prevented him from ignoring those obstacles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

The girls all arrived with reinforcements of food, booze and friends to celebrate the Monkees' triumph. Wendy did her signature ice dancing move of leaping into her long, tall Texan's arms and wrapping her legs around his waist while smothering him with kisses. Peter and Dawn linked arms around each other's waists and he planted a kiss on the top of her head, his most sincere gesture of endearment. Even though Lynda wasn't Davy's girlfriend anymore, they were still very close friends, Lynda having stuck by Davy as he braved the specter of being drafted and sweated out his attempt to starve his way out of conscription. They embraced and she petted his hair like a child or the younger brother he had become to her, someone she had looked after in tough times and whom she always would continue to stand by as long as he showed her and himself proper respect, which had been her terms of engagement when they broke up.

Micky and Gabby were less certain about how to express their emotions. They had always been a very physical couple, but that had changed so radically lately. Still, just that day, they had made an important breakthrough and they wanted to maintain it, but they both knew that it was important not to get carried away by the heaviness of the moment and go too far. So they held each other and Micky was very direct, as he usually was, and asked "How do you want to celebrate this moment, Gabby? Tell me what you want and that's what you'll have."

Gabby responded "I ought to be asking you that, but I take your meaning. Thank you for your usual consideration. You're showing me once again why I'm so lucky to have you in my life and why I love you so much. I'd like to count to three and then just react however we both want to react, without thinking. Is that okay? No reservations, no thinking it through, no overthinking. Just instinct and see where it takes us. Okay?"

Micky nodded. "Okay. One. Two. Three."

They clutched each other around the middle and Micky dipped Gabby into a heart-stopping, romantic, Rhett Butler-worthy kiss that went on and on. Gabby murmured "Mmmm, that's nice. Sock it to me, Micky!" She was back in cheerleader mode, like she used to be when Micky would do something that turned her on — participant, partner, encourager, temptress, empowered woman. They grinned at each other and he said "How about later?" She lifted an eyebrow seductively and responded "Rendezvous at the Nooky Nook? We haven't been there since the day you gave me that magnificent display of self-love." Gabby was referring to a secluded cove the guys used to bring their gals to for some alfresco lovin'. Micky's eyes misted up as he remembered back to a time when physical and emotional relations between them were on even footing, but in his heart he knew that at this moment they had a much closer emotional bond despite their temporary physical separation. "Sounds good. Let's wait until everyone's good and wasted and the sun's gone down and then we'll go over there. Hopefully it won't already be occupied by another Monkee and life partner." Gabby giggled at his use of the term Mike had chosen to refer to Wendy, as opposed to girlfriend, a surprisingly enlightened and feminist choice for a traditional southern gentleman that had ended up setting the tone for how all the Monkees and their girlfriends operated as a family unit.

Wendy passed by and told Micky she needed to borrow Gabby, hooking her by the elbow and dragging her away. "Gabby, I need your help with a delicate mission!" Wendy had that look of mischief that Gabby knew always had the possibility for incendiary trouble, but that sometimes, occasionally, could mean good things were in the offing. She hoped that for once, the latter was the case.

"What's up, Wendileh?"

"I invited a whole bunch of my coworkers from Wallichs over to the party and there's a girl here who spotted Davy and wants to meet him. But I know he's been freaking out about dating lately and I don't want to hand her over to him if he's not in the right frame of mind to take her on. What should I tell her?"

Gabby perked up and smiled with great relish, pinching Wendy's cheek and said "Dollbaby, for once you delivered the goods just at the right time! Give me the lowdown on her and then let's strategize."

"Well, she's been out of college for a couple of years and wants to get into the music business and gravitated to Wallichs, just like me, for the same reason — it's music Mecca. She goes out a lot to hear live music, so she knows the scene and has met a lot of musicians, between the store and the bands she's met at their shows, so she's not a naïve newcomer. I think she could handle herself with him. Plus, she just happens to be a very funny, sassy, bright girl who has been taking care of herself for a long time, living on this coast while her family lives in the east, so she's not a momma's girl or anything — she's got some life experience."

"She's not a groupie, though, right?"

"Definitely not."

Gabby rubbed her hands together with glee and said "I think she's just the ticket, on paper anyway. Let's just introduce the two and see what happens. What's her name?"

"Her name is Jan Daniels. She's from New England, so maybe Pete can help grease the skids in terms of convo if there's a rough patch. Can you even believe we're worrying about Davy getting a conversation going with a chick?"

Gabby chuckled "Well, here's the thing, I think the only conversational gambits Davy has are chat up lines. He needs to broaden his vocabulary. Let's get him together with Peter and introduce them at the same time."

Wendy gave her hand to Gabby for a low-five. "Right on, Gabbileh! Let's move out. Let's put our white knight back on his steed now."

They fetched Peter, who was attached to the hip with Dawn, filled them both in on the plan, then gathered up Jan, then Wendy ran and asked Davy if she could introduce him to a colleague of hers. He gave her a dubious look, but Wendy pulled rank on him as his agent and said "Davy, you've trusted me so far to know who it's a good idea for you to meet, right? Will you let it ride and just meet this woman? You don't have to marry her, just say hello." He shrugged his shoulders and let her lead the way.

Jan had copper colored hair, green eyes, and was a few inches taller than Davy, as most women were, but he always said he dug tall women. Gabby's theory was that it had something to do with where their tits met his face, but he claimed it was because it made the other fellas jealous that he was able to snag the tall, attractive women that they couldn't despite his height. She admired his pluck and self-confidence in any case; it resembled her own disregard for her non-conformity with her curves and unconventional beauty.

Davy's approach was uncharacteristically low-key with Jan to begin with, as it had been with Debbie, but Jan seemed to be having none of that. Within minutes, she had drawn him out and they were chatting and laughing about something, and Gabby saw that they seemed to be at ease with each other. Her heart swelled with gratitude to Wendy and relief for Davy. Now that she felt Davy was squared away, she went in search of her Micky and could enjoy the party.

She sauntered over to Micky and put her arm around him, placing her hand on his ass and giving him a squeeze. He jumped at receiving such an unexpected goosing and gave her a look of delighted surprise, then bent down and gave her a grateful smooch.

"Hey, you, what's got into you?" he asked.

"I just earned my angel's wings for the night getting Davy hooked up with a hopefully nice girl, and now I can focus on my own love life."

"Good for you, babe. He's been moping around and my heart's been breaking for him."

"Well that's a switch. It wasn't too long ago that he was pleading your case with me for you."

Micky bowed his head and nodded. "Yeah, he's been the best friend I've ever had. Thanks for looking after my friend. I can't imagine what our lives would be like without you girls. What this moment would be like without you all to share it with, I just don't know. It's so much sweeter and satisfying. And to think I almost pissed it all away."

"Well thank goodness you pulled your head outta your ass, then." She gave him a sly grin and poked his cheek.

"Let's drink to that. You haven't even had your first and I'm on my third. You're always talking about equality. Let's get that straightened out." They picked up a beer each and made their way over to a group of friends, which even included some of the folks they met when they were in Palm Springs who lived in the L.A. area, and joined the excited conversation.

As the sun went down, the musical instruments and joints of marijuana emerged, and the guys agreed to sing their own songs instead of their favorite music. Given that their music was the reason for the gathering, it was reasoned, it should be in the spotlight. They played their newest tune, _Last Train To Clarksville_ , a song Micky wrote about a guy who's about to ship out to Vietnam who wants to see his girl one more time and asks her to meet him at the train station. Apparently, this was the attention getter that attracted the label to the Monkees. An executive at the label had somehow gotten a copy of their demo tape and then had sent a scout to secretly observe them at one of their gigs at Cornwall's, the club where they were at the tail end of a long-term contract. After taking a few more requests, Michael put his foot down and said "I'm gonna be playin' these songs for the rest of mah life now, so I wanna play me some other tunes just for fun while I still got the time!"

Micky started to play on his acoustic guitar in response drunkenly "There's no time! No time, no time for you, I got no time, baby, got lots of better things to do."

Peter had figured out the chords and lyrics to a few tunes they had heard at the Monterey Pop Festival and led them in a singalong, or at least tried, but many of the guests, including Peter, were too wasted to make a decent effort, so he fell back to his old blues standards and everyone added their uh-huhs and yeah mans as part of the chorus. Mike did a few country numbers that highlighted his remarkable ability to yodel and use falsetto. Davy seemed to be in high spirits and sang an Anthony Newly song, _Gonna Build A Mountain_ , in honor of his favorite performer after whom he whom he tried to pattern his act. Wendy was a huge Aretha Franklin fan and despite being Jewish, asked to sing one of her favorite gospel songs and led the group in O Happy Day, insisting that they all act as her backing group and clap along. Gabby and Dawn chose some protest songs, including _Where Have All The Flowers Gone_ and their friend Stephen Stills's recent hit _For What It's Worth_ , which Peter had been given the honor of introducing at the Monterey Pop Festival that summer.

Eventually, the singing died down and the music gave way to desultory strumming and conversation. Micky and Gabby strolled away to the Nooky Nook with a beach towel and hungry expressions. Their hunger was for each other, it having been so long since they had purposely and unreservedly planned one of their liaisons. In the past, the anticipation and buildup to their lovemaking and trysting had always been as enjoyable as the act itself, and while spontaneity sometimes played a part in their physical relationship, the greater emphasis was on savoring and paying tribute to every moment they shared. What started as a stroll ended up as a race as they began to run towards the secluded cove, giggling and chasing each other all the way there.

Micky of course got there first, his legs being impossibly longer than Gabby's and being more fleet of foot, and he was already splayed upon the beach towel in what he hoped was a seductive pose when she got there. Instead, she pointed at him and started to bust up laughing. His face fell a bit and he asked in a bewildered tone "What, what? What's so funny?"

Gabby gasped for breath both from the run they had just made and because her laughter was robbing her of oxygen. "You, lying there, looking like a virgin on her wedding night, waiting for her groom to take her, hoping he likes what he sees and praying he'll be gentle."

Micky looked down at himself, lying there a bit awkwardly with his legs crossed primly, fingers clasped a bit nervously, and realized Gabby had summed him up fairly accurately. Now he started to giggle along with her and the whole scenario began to appear in his mind writ large, as his imagination caught up with hers. He too started to gasp for breath, fell back on his back and slapped the ground for emphasis at the hilarity of the situation. Just at that moment, Gabby took the opportunity to hurl herself onto his prone body and pin him down, administering a series of kisses and raspberries she blew on his neck and cheeks, which made him howl with laughter even harder, as did she. Then she added some tickling fingers, which was the last straw for Micky and he caught her hands and held her tight, turning the tables on her and flipping her over on her back to return the same treatment to her.

They were both breathless from their laughter when Micky paused for a moment to stare into Gabby's eyes and wipe the laughter tears from her cheeks. She reached up and did the same for him, then he kissed her very gently, once, twice, thrice. Suddenly, a conflagration of kisses burst into flames and they were completely uninhibited, rolling around, clutching at each other, reaching for every exposed inch of flesh on each other to bestow and receive a kiss. It wasn't enough, though. Quick as a flash, shirts went flying, then Gabby's bra, and skin on skin was duly appreciated and rubbed together like two sticks together to create even more fire.

Micky feasted on Gabby's whole torso like a man who hadn't eaten in a couple of months, because in reality, he felt like he hadn't. She received his attention with no reservations whatsoever, for she was starving for his attention and was looking for satiation as well. Now that she had had a taste of him, she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her.

"Micky, my Micky, how much can I have here? This isn't very private."

He sat up and gave her a startled look. He wasn't expecting to have unleashed such passion in her, or rather that she would have unleashed her own passion so thoroughly, since he knew full well that she was in charge of her own body and mind and she would only go as far as she was ready. He had hopes and dreams, but there was always reality to temper them.

"Gabby?" He couldn't manage to utter another word. He needed more information.

"I know, I've knocked you for a loop. I'm kind of shocked myself, but fuck it, Micky. I wasn't expecting to shut down the way I did and now I'm waking up in an unexpected way. My mind doesn't operate in a logical way, and it doesn't heal on a timetable."

"I just don't want you to..."

"Don't say it. You're not rushing me, you're not anythinging me. I'm calling my own shots. I love you, I want you, you make me happy, and I woke up from my long, depressing sleep today. Maybe I'm Sleeping Beauty and you're my prince, or maybe there's some boring clinical explanation for it that my therapist will explain to me at my next appointment. I don't need to check in with her before I make love to you. Does that spell it out for you enough?"

Micky grinned at her with a look of wonder and delight. "I like seeing you like this, taking control of your life, Gabby, going for what you want and making it happen, making it your own. It's kind of how you approach sex. You know what you want and you're not afraid to ask for it. So yeah, now that you've let me know in no uncertain terms that I'm not pressuring you or rushing you, that this is all you and that you want me, then yeah, this is the best thing in my life to happen to me, other than getting the recording contract."

"Like I always say, Micky, you've got your priorities straight," Gabby grinned. "So answer my question. How much can I have while we're here. How private is this place really? I know we've done some public making out, and we've had sex on the beach late at night, but I want our first time together again to be special and free of hassle. So what can I have here?"

Micky mulled it over and decided "At this time of night and with all our friends so close by, not enough to make it worth your while. I want to make it a worthy homecoming for you, my Gabby, so we'll do what we've done before." He held out his hand to her and she took it. "Squeeze my hand and I'll squeeze yours, and for the rest of the night that will be our secret code that we're thinking of and anticipating the time when we can be together and make love in complete and utter abandoned gluttony."

Gabby sighed and said "You're right, of course. We should wait. I know it's a sin to spend money we oughtn't to, but since we did mention gluttony and we're already sinning with lust, can we check into a cheapo motel tonight? I want to get away from everyone and be with just you."

"I want you to have everything, Gabby, and someday I'll be able to give it to you, but even now I can afford to give you that. So yes, let's go have our sinful tryst in an establishment of low repute. In fact, I'll even spring for a place of medium repute."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled her head in the place where his slim shoulders met his long neck and sharp jaw. It was a perfect, cozy fit and she loved how she slotted in so perfectly there. "Thanks, my Micky. You take good care of me. Me and my heart. I love you."

He looked down at her and nudged her with his lips, requesting a kiss, which she granted. "I love you, my Gabby. You're my everything. When the world consists of just me and you, that's when I'm at my happiest. It's so simple then. I know where everything is and how it all fits together, because all I have to do is discuss it with you."

"Well, I don't know," she countered skeptically, "we've managed to have some pretty explosive disagreements when it's been just the two of us alone."

"That's true, but the rot usually set in because I left the room before we settled the matter. I'm figuring that out now. I'm also figuring out that sometimes you need to leave and think and come back, and I just have to have faith that letting you have that freedom and space will help strengthen our bond in the end. Maybe one day it will be me that has to leave. If that ever happens, Gabby, will you please promise to give me that same chance as you, to do my own thinking and to get my head straight? I think that's what I was doing when we parted in June. I was getting my head straight. It only took me about a day and a half to figure out I'd made a huge mistake and I'd been an asshole, and then the rest of the time I spent trying to figure out how to find my way back to you. And then the cruelest twist of fate, your injuries and you landing in the hospital, brought us back together. I hope and pray that we'll never have that kind of blowout again, and I hope if we ever do, it won't take that kind of tragic catalyst to bring us back together."

Micky beseeched her, "Please promise me you'll let me be a flawed human like I do you. Remember I told you at the beginning that someday I might let you down, and someday you might let me down, because we aren't robots, that we're both humans? I felt like you had let me down, and you felt like I had let you down. We both felt wronged. I know now that I was a big ass, or at least I didn't follow proper protocol in hashing out our differences. I went to bed angry and didn't give you a chance to explain. But I've learned from that. But still and all, I think that life is going to hand us more challenges, Gabby, and that we still have more growing to do. Please don't ever give up on me."

Gabby appraised him thoughtfully. "You know, that's what Davy said to me, the day of the protest march when he was pleading your case like a dopey junior high schooler, presumably because you asked him to. You owe him a big thank you. He kept telling me again and again not to give up on you. I won't give up on you, Micky. How could I? You've been so loyal and patient with me. But you did pick up on the key to us staying together. Don't walk away from me, or if you do walk away, tell me it's temporary and for our own good. Don't leave me crying in the living room or sleeping on the couch. Don't be cruel or reactive. Try to talk things through with me. The more abruptly you flee, the harder I'll pull away from you and the more I'll freak out and regress into my shell, because it's too reminiscent of the way Nick treated me. Now that I'm coming back out, I want to stay out. So if you want to hang on to me, that's my tip for how to do it. I've heard everything you've said and I promise to try to remember it and keep it in mind if and when we hit another bump in the road. Please try to remember this conversation, too, before you do another hit and run job on me. Deal?" She held out her hand to him.

"Deal." He kissed her hand and let the kiss move right up her arm to her neck and then to her lips, then enfolded her into a tight embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	5. Chapter 5

Eventually the party began to disperse and Micky and Gabby decided to make their exit. Micky told Mike, the mother hen of the group, what their plans were, and Gabby told Wendy, so that no one would worry about them. Then they grabbed Gabby's spare toothbrush and a few other things that she kept at the Pad, Micky packed a bag for himself and they took off. They checked into the Malibu Shores Motel, which, true to Micky's word, was actually a step above the last cheapo motel they had checked into for the express purpose of having the privacy to have carefree sex out of the proximity of roommates. The building itself was an architectural gem, nestled into the mountains abutting Pacific Coast Highway, and it had lovely landscaping, always one of Gabby's weaknesses. The main feature of importance, however, was a bathtub (for Gabby's priorities) and a large bed (for Micky's preferences).

As soon as they entered the room, Gabby was already starting to remove articles of clothing, both hers and Micky's. She had once told Micky that he had the power of turning her into a feral animal, a wild brushfire, and now she was consumed with primal instincts run amok. His eyes widened with delight, desire, arousal and a hint of amusement. After such a long, patient dry spell, to have it served up to him as a banquet to feast upon was a delightful sensory overload. Eventually, he began to snatch at the remaining clothes that adorned them and stripped them off quickly.

Gabby was humming and buzzing with desire and need. He could feel it radiating off of her skin in waves of heat and vibrations. She looked at him with searching eyes, not knowing where to begin or how to release the shackles that had bound her for those two months. She wasn't paralyzed with fear but rather with possibility. Where to start? On his neck, his chest, or go right for the gold and reach for his nether regions, which she craved so madly. No, that would be crude, crass, unloving, unfeeling – dammit, why had she let it get to this stage, what was she waiting for, what...?

Micky finally took the decision out of her hands, sensing she was not able to process her thoughts because her system was in overdrive. He walked her backwards towards the bed and eased her down to a sitting position, so that she was level with his belly. "I'm going to tell you what to do, Gabby, until your brain wakes up and takes over. Okay?"

She gave him a look of relief and nodded silently.

He smiled and nodded at her reassuringly, then stepped forward, took her hands and put them around his ass, put his hands behind her head and said quietly, "Suck me, please. Make me moan."

She leaned forward and took hold of his raging hard erection and stroked it with one hand, while lightly tickling his balls with the other. She guided his staff to her dry, puckered lips and she ran her lips over the head very gently, rubbing and causing some friction. The she dipped underneath the ridge of the head and snaked her tongue out to tickle it, captured the whole head in her mouth and lightly pressed on it before she swirled her tongue around it. She kept the shaft pressed up against his belly as she licked it up and down a few times, then recaptured the head in her mouth, running it between her lips and gums and letting the ridges there stimulate him as he shifted and began to moan.

Now she gripped his whole penis and changed its angle to perpendicular to his body, inserting it all into her mouth, while she continued to caress and manipulate his dangling sacs. Remembering something he had done to himself when he had once jacked off in front of her, she moved her fingers behind his balls and stroked the smooth area behind them and pressed lightly on that area, and he moaned again. She began to lick him faster and faster, deep-throating him and making him squirm. His moans had turned into grunts and words like "Oh yeah," and "Oh, Gabby," and "Feels so good."

Suddenly, as he had foretold, Gabby's brain did wake up, and she decided to become a more active participant in what was happening. She licked her fingers and rubbed them on her chest between her breasts and then brought Micky's penis closer to her and she pressed it between them and enfolded it in her flesh. He rocked back and forth as he created friction and heat.

He was starting to lose focus but he knew he was close and needed to warn her. "Gabby I'm going to..."

"I know, my Micky. I want it all. Keep going."

He continued to rock and thrust and just at the last minute, she captured his penis in her mouth and gave him a mighty suck and he exploded, shooting wave after wave of bliss into the abyss of her throat. He held onto her shoulders and she gripped his ass and they rocked and he moaned and she cooed and purred. As the waves of his climax lessened, he slumped over on her and she supported him with her strong arms while she stroked and tickled his butt until he couldn't stand anymore and had to lie down. She coaxed him onto his stomach and she ran her hands down the whole of his backside, from his shoulders, to his midsection, to his butt, to his thighs and calves and feet. She stroked and petted him everywhere she could find a nerve ending. The backs of his arms, his elbows, the palms of his hands, the crown of his head. Everywhere on his body was sensitive to her touch, ever the more so because he hadn't felt it in so long. He was so grateful for the care she was taking in reuniting with all the parts of his body, for taking care of his stimulation first.

He heaved a great sigh of satisfaction and said "I feel so wonderful. Thank you for putting me in such a state of nirvana, Gabby. I would have taken care of you first. I just didn't know what you wanted, so I was keeping you busy until you told me where to go and what to touch and how you wanted it."

"No, Micky, it had to be this way. I needed to take care of you first. I needed to make you feel good because you were the one who went without for so long. My body wasn't missing you the same way you were missing me. It wasn't hungering for sex or making love. It was healing itself and binding up wounds. You were starving and needed this."

He turned over to face her and held his arms open to gather her in, and she crawled into his loving embrace. There were no words he could say now to express his feelings. Only touch would suffice. He took the same infinite care as she had just done to reacquaint himself with all of her curves and slopes, running his fingers, palms and hands over them. He took inventory, like a shopkeeper after an attempted robbery, to see what if anything was missing and to assure that what he thought he lost was present and still in his possession. Gabby sensed his need and didn't get edgy or impatient like she normally would, and didn't try to speed the process to become more sexual in nature. She appreciated the fact that Micky was worshiping her whole body and loving its totality, loving her corporeal presence as a spiritual exercise and not just a sex act. But then again, it had never ever been any other way between them. Why had her subconscious needed more than two months to remember that, she wondered?

Finally, having metaphorically walked the boundaries of her property and reacquainted himself with them, he was ready to inhabit her, to become one with her. He softly beckoned to her "Tell me, Gabriella, tell me what you want."

"I want you to do what you just did, but with your mouth. Your tongue and your teeth and your lips."

Micky took his forefingers and closed her eyelids, smoothing them shut, then followed up with a kiss to each. While ignoring her most sensitive spots, he repeated his trek around her body with his mouth, gently the first time with small dry kisses, then the next time with licks and lapping of the tongue, and then a third time with suctioning kisses and nips of the teeth. Finally, he became erratic in where he placed his mouth and whether he licked, nibbled or bit, and Gabby started to get that fidgety impatience that her body always used to display when it asserted its need for release.

Micky took note and asked "Am I seeing that famous Gabby fidget? Tell me what your body is feeling, my Gabby."

She laughed and admitted "Yeah, you know me so well. It's such a relief and delight that you do. I think my body is telling me it's ready for you to get down to some serious business, Mister."

"Well just remember that good things come to all who wait, patience is a virtue, a stitch in time saves nine, and all those other proverbs are true. While you've been working up a head of steam there and fidgeting, I've been working up my second wind, so you get to have anything you want."

He grinned with all his teeth as her eyes flew to the unexpected erection he was sporting. He didn't usually bounce back so quickly, within a matter of a few minutes, and this was a treat she hadn't expected. She gave a wide-eyed look of sheer surprise and delight and replied "Yum!" like a child being given an extra dessert.

Micky fixed her with an impish look and said "Want to play superheroes? I'm Superman, you're Lois Lane, and I'm going to help you fly."

Gabby of course took his meaning. He was referring to the way she described how it felt when she made love to him from the top position, her preferred and most empowering way of joining bodies with him.

This fantasy didn't quite fit her feminist ethics. "I'd rather be Wonder Woman. You've found me along the side of the road. My invisible airplane made an emergency landing and I need a lift to the scene of our next fierce battle against evildoers. You kindly offer to let me climb aboard the Superman jet pack."

Micky guffawed with laughter and agreed "I like that way better. After we finish vanquishing the evildoers, will you show me your golden lasso up close and personal?"

"Only if you ask for it, beg me for it, consent," she quipped, falling back on their agreement on how all physical contact between them had to be wanted and granted.

They both loved how they were speaking in code and familiar inside jokes now. Their saucy banter and their shorthand for concepts and principles they had long ago established reminded them that they had already constructed a solid framework of love and trust that they were now able to safely lean upon.

"Take me for a ride, Superman, help me fly. Please, I want it. I need it. I grant you consent to do whatever it takes to help me achieve lift off."

Hearing the magic incantation, Micky's spirit soared and he felt truly free, as he had not in months. Gabby felt released from her demons and hesitations, which was a kind of freedom in itself. So they both felt that with the removal of these shackles, they were already flying.

They joined to seal the fantasy with a magnificent kiss. It started temperately but quickly unraveled into a frenzy, with both of their lips straying to each other's necks, shoulders, arms and chests. Micky firmly asserted himself and took charge of Gabby, lifting both her breasts up to his lips and teasing and licking them alternately, allowing their weight and heft to help aid the stimulation she was feeling. He eased her onto her back and continued to pull and suck her nipples and caress the lines of her breasts until she thrashed and moaned and her head was whipping from side to side in a frenzy.

He moved down her belly with his kisses until he reached her soft, sensitive area below her hip bones and above her pubic bone, then gave her licks and sucks and bites there, which made her writhe with need and want. He teased her no more, descending to her coochie and spreading its folds to give him access to the whole area. He licked her from the outside perimeter in, then zeroed in on her love button and sucked her hard. She hadn't received any attention to this part of her body in months and she was unprepared for how it was going to feel. Suddenly she cried out, "Oh, Micky, it's too late, I'm going to miss my flight!"

He realized she was telling him she was already almost about to climax and there was no time for their elaborate fantasy plan, so he changed his tactics on the fly and decided to give her coochie the best loving it had had in two months with his mouth and fingers instead. He gently inserted one finger, then a second when he could feel how wet and slick she was, and curled his fingers and massaged her G-spot, then returned his mouth to her clitoris and prepared to help her achieve an orgasm that would hopefully be as satisfying as making love. She guided his actions with her words and the way she moved her body and ground her hips and pelvis, and then she was mumbling phrases like "Oh, sweet heaven above," and "Been so long," and "I'm coming home," and finally "My Micky, Micky, Micky." He continued to flick his tongue back and forth while she rocked herself into it, reaching for every last bit of her orgasm.

He scooted up to her face and kissed her with all her juices still dripping from his mouth. She remarked upon the salty tanginess of the taste.

"Hey, you once gave me a whole mouthful of my own come, so fair's fair."

"I'm not complaining, just observing. I guess if I'd have taken Nick up on his request for me to make it with that other chick, I'd already know what girl fluids taste like," she laughed.

Micky smiled at her with pride. To be able to joke about such a horrible, traumatizing part of her past was such an accomplishment for her. He stroked her cheek and she knew what he was trying to convey. They often spoke without words before they had had their huge fight, and now that they were doing it again, she felt even better about her decision to throw off the shackles of her self-imposed celibacy.

He was lying on top of her and his erection was poking her. Now she noticed it and moved her thigh against it, inquiring "What are we going to do about that, hmmm?"

"Oh, well, we don't have to do anything about it. I conjured it up for your benefit, not mine," Micky said shyly, not wanting to be greedy or push her too far this first time.

"But what about 'waste not want not,' another brilliant proverb?" She had a mischievous gleam in her eye. "What can I do for yooooou, Micky?" she sang. "How can we celebrate the advent of your superpowers?"

"How about you take me for a ride in your invisible airplane?"

"I'll do you better, I'll let you be the pilot. I'll let you steer."

She threw her arms out to her side and splayed her legs open and waited for him to maneuver her into whatever position he wanted her in.

Micky rose and walked to the end of the bed, then pulled Gabby down to the end and sat her up. "Turn over on your tummy, my wonder woman," and once she did, he helped her get to her knees with her belly resting on her thighs and her arms out in front of her, holding on to the bedspread. He ran his hands down the lines of her curves of her waist and lower body, and used his fingernails to gently rake her neck, back and butt. He used his tongue to gently touch her butt crack and warm it, but didn't go near the hole. He skipped down and stuck his tongue in her vagina and started to fuck her with it and she wriggled and moaned with surprise and pleasure. He added his fingers to her rub her clitoris and whole mound and she emoted some more.

"Take your pleasure, Micky. I'm here and I'm open and I want you inside of me. I want to make you feel good. I want to fuse our bodies, minds, hearts and souls again. I need you in me and of me. Please, Micky."

He entered her with some force now, to announce his presence and satisfy her yearning. She encouraged him, "Please, Micky, more, harder, faster, more of everything. I want all of it, all of you. I want to feel you and me together. Bring me all the way back home, come all the way inside of me." He thrust again harder and added a vocalization that let her know he was giving it his all, holding nothing back. She steadied herself on her elbows, gripping the bedspread and giving him as much ballast as possible against which to push.

She wanted him to storm her gates and thoroughly burst them wide open, to free her from whatever it was that had been constricting her and limiting her. She continued to try to get that message across to him. "I need you to fuck me, Micky, not just make love to me. Reclaim me, liberate me, let me have fun again." He sped up the pace and used even more force, and he let his fingers press even harder on her sensitive clitoris and circle it faster and faster. "Yes, yes, yes," she encouraged him.

She started to feel that tingly, itchy feeling creeping up her thighs and butt and spine that told her that another orgasm was impending and she now pressed herself back into him, trying to hurry his along to meet her own. "Micky, it's almost here, I'm coming home..." No more time for words. It was upon her. Now it was only her groaning and shouting and then his deeper voice shouting yes and yes and yes and her higher pitched oh and oh, and their mixed Gabby and Micky and babe and loverboy and Superman and Wonder Woman, then so good and give it to me and that's it, let it out and oh, Micky and oh, Gabby. Their words and sounds got tangled in each other as they unloaded at the same time and rode out theirs orgasms and enjoyed their aftermaths. Micky continued to stimulate Gabby as she shuddered and squirmed, and she clenched and released her inner muscles around his staff as he pressed it as deeply inside her as possible.

She moved his hand away from her sensitive crotch and he used it to rub her butt instead, admiring its curves and slopes. Then he reached up and tweaked her nipples and squeezed the mounds of her breasts. She swayed side to side as he continued to love on her body. His fingers raked through her smooth, though very mussed up bobbed haircut, and he tucked the hair behind her ears. He leaned forward to kiss the backs of her ears, which pressed him even further inside of her and she moaned and sighed again with supreme satisfaction and giggled at the sensation of his balls tickling her thighs. Finally, he withdrew and got a cloth from the bathroom and cleaned them both up gently, then laid down on the bed with her.

They clutched each other in an embrace that was aimed at protecting, calming, soothing, reassuring, confiding, congratulating, celebrating, uplifting, communing – all positive emotions and reinforcing instincts. Gabby spoke first.

"Micky, I know you want to know how I feel, so I'll not keep you in suspense. I feel like all is right, all is well, like I'm where I want to be and where I belong, in your arms and in your heart, part of your life and that I have you in all those same places with me."

He took a deep, shaky breath and gave a sigh of relief and contentment. For once he had no words. He just clutched her closer to her and stroked her, petted her, and held her heart to his.

Eventually she asked "Micky? What are you thinking? Want to tell me?"

"I'm thinking about what you've said about you coming home. What it means for you was being able to let me touch you again. But I think what it means for us is to be at home with each other. I thought the only way we could ever properly become one was to live together, and to nurture another life, whether it's a houseplant, a dog, which is what you want, or a baby, which is what I always thought I ought to have and maybe still think I might want, though I'm still plenty messed up on figuring out which is which and what the right thing would be to do about that regardless of what I want. But right at this moment, I feel like what us being at home together means is the way we communicate with each other, the way we trust each other, the way we accept each other, and the way we give ourselves to each other. And yes, the physical aspect is a part of that, but there's so much vulnerability in it, so much work we've done to make it safe and fun and unconventional and unique to us and satisfying for both of us and a partnership that it represents the best of how we've built this relationship.

"I think there's no better way for us to appreciate how wonderful we are as a couple together than when we make love. I'm always willing to go without it now, my Gabby, if ever you need me to. I hope I've proven myself to you on that score, but ohhhhh, I'm so glad to have it back because it brings us so close together and makes our love so complete. It leaves me utterly satisfied and at this moment, I'm not thinking of the things I can't have. I'm thinking of everything you've given me and how lucky I am to receive it all."

Gabby realized she had been holding her breath as she listened to Micky's soliloquy. Now she exhaled with wonder and admiration. "Those are some pretty wise and mature thoughts from a guy I thought had a lot of growing up to do. I haven't given you enough credit lately, Micky. I've forgotten how deeply you feel and think about things, how you're always paying attention and scanning me for feedback and trying to dig beneath the surface and find greater meaning in our actions and words and feelings. I can't tell you how rare that is in a guy. I'm so frickin' lucky I could scream or put a big ad in the _L.A. Times_ or buy a billboard for the 405 Freeway, and I couldn't express my feelings loudly enough. Please hear me and believe me when I tell you that you are incredibly, unusually special, not just compared to the rest of your gender but even in comparison to a lot of women I know. You really are my best friend as well as my most beloved boyfriend, lover, life partner, whatever we're going to call ourselves."

"Let's just say I'm your Micky and you're my Gabby." He kissed her gently on the lips and squeezed her tighter. "Want to take a shower or a bath?"

"A bath. Let's get relaxed and loose and sleepy. If I get you in the shower, you're going to get all worked up again."

Micky lifted one eyebrow and inquired "And this is a bad thing because why?"

Gabby mulled it over and said "Well, actually, I don't really have an answer for that. I mean, we _are_ paying for this room and time is ticking. If you've got the stamina, then I'm in. Think you can go for a triple?"

Micky took her hand, kissed it, and brought it down to his groin, which was already halfway hard again.

Gabby was astonished with Micky's uncharacteristically rapid potency this evening. She had to assume it had to do with his long deprivation. He stood up, reached for Gabby and slung her over his shoulder, carrying her into the bathroom, and deposited her in front of the shower. After getting the temperature of the water just right, he guided her under the spray and soaped himself and then her and slid their bodies together. Then he used his soapy fingers to manipulate and stimulate her nipples while she shifted from foot to foot and leaned into his touch.

He grabbed a bath mat and threw it on the floor of the shower so they wouldn't slip, then he grabbed hold of Gabby's thigh and raised it up, tickling her slit and folds and sensitive button to stimulate a river of lubrication. When she was ready to receive him, he thrust into her and she put her arms around his neck as he moved in and out of her. He put his hands around her waist and lifted her up and backed her against the wall, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist, and he began to pound and thrust into her as she cheered him on. He paused every second or third thrust to kiss her mouth or grab her breast and suck her nipple and bite it, or to massage her clitoris, but she pushed his attentions to her body away and said "Micky, take your pleasure and you can tend to my garden another time. I want to see that blissed out, hazy look on your face. I want to hear you shout. Come on, Micky. Give it to me. You know that's what you want. Do it."

He grinned at her egging him on, coaxing out of him a selfish impulse he'd not act on without her permission, no more than she would either. Sometimes they could end up paralyzed by their own desire to please the other. So she had to break the standoff and finally say it. "Fuck me, Micky, right here in the shower, right up against these tiles. Please."

He smothered her in kisses and then let loose with everything he had. He bucked and prodded and heaved and used his strength plus gravity to move her up and down on him until he paused for a moment, suspended between heaven and Earth, then let out a mighty yell and came for the third time that night. His eyes were closed as he rode out his orgasm, but after the most intense feelings passed, he opened his eyes and saw Gabby grinning at him with a smug, self-satisfied look on her face, like she had just won the lottery or a debate she had been having with someone and had finally been able to convince them of her position.

Micky stopped her smug mouth with a firm kiss, then lowered her back to the ground gently. They stood in the steamy shower's spray and hugged, swaying to and fro. Micky took Gabby's hands and kissed her knuckles, then reached for the shampoo and washed her hair for her and she did his.

Gabby exhaled a big breath and suggested "Let's take a bath and come down. I'm all awhirl."

They filled the tub and Gabby sat in front of Micky. At this point neither one of them could take any more sexual stimulation, even though a tub full of hot water and a bar of soap was fraught with smutty possibilities. It was time to relax and get quiet now. They often took baths as a way of communing and closing out the day. It was one of their few refuges from the hustle bustle of their two residences packed to the rafters with roommates.

Gabby realized she hadn't yet even talked to Micky about the recording contract. "How do you feel about finally getting your big break?"

Micky paused a moment to think before answering. Despite his reputation as the jokester and goofball, he was really a very deep thinker and a sensitive soul.

"Aside from being obviously excited, I'm also kind of intimidated. Like this is the bigtime, and we're just a garage band that plays clubs and everyone's gonna figure out that we're frauds and that we've been reaching too high all this time. Like Icarus, flying too close to the sun and he burned his wings and fell to Earth."

Gabby nodded. "I'm not going to patronize you by telling you how great you are because you already know it. I think that kind of anticipatory anxiety is natural — like the dream I have about showing up for a big test at school and I realize I skipped the whole semester's classes and didn't read any of the class materials. Or it's like if you were dreaming you were performing naked on stage. What I mean is, it's an understandable fear, but probably an irrational one, too. They sent a scout out to vet you guys. They know what they're getting."

"That's true. Good way of looking at the situation. You're good at helping me see things differently."

Gabby scoffed, "Humph! That's what Davy said to me tonight more or less."

"Oh? What were you talking about?"

"His love life. He's hung up on thinking he's just like Nick and is paralyzed with fear about dating again, so he stopped seeing my friend Debbie. He said he didn't want to despoil her like Nick did me."

Micky looked shocked. "Whoa! That's way out there!"

"I know! I had to get tough with him to set him straight. Hopefully I've got him seeing things clearly now. Plus, Wendy introduced him to a gal she works with tonight. So let's keep our fingers crossed that something clicks."

"Yeah, sure. Back to the original question, about the contract..."

"Hmmm?" Gabby had her eyes closed and was raking her fingers over Micky's calves.

"Well, I don't know what kind of money we're talking about, and I don't know what the other guys will decide to do. I know the prudent thing to do would be for all of us to continue living at the Pad and see whether this is just a flash in the pan. But if the other guys decide to move out..." Again, he hesitated to finish his sentence.

Gabby was catching the gist of where he was going now. She though it was cute that he wasn't charging ahead and spending money he didn't yet have in his pocket, or trying to carry her off to a castle the minute he had the chance. It almost sounded like he was looking for a roommate if the other guys left him in the lurch.

"So you're thinking you might need to find another roommate if the other guys bail on you, is that it, Micky? She was smiling now, trying hard not to crack up laughing. He couldn't see her face because she was sitting in front of him.

Micky stammered "N-n-nooo, Gabby, that's not it. It wouldn't be like that, of course not!"

Now she burst into giggles and slapped the water. Micky realized she was pulling his leg and he yanked her earlobes, saying "Oh, you!"

She turned around to face him and he took her hands in his. Suddenly the moment had grown serious when Micky hadn't meant it to be. He felt like he had trodden into a minefield and couldn't extricate himself. He was about to begin when Gabby forestalled him.

"Micky, don't sweat it. Let's just wait and see how events unfold. I'm not saying I'm against it, but let's at least wait to see what you guys decide as a group. Hell, you haven't even signed on the dotted line yet! You have no idea what kind of money you'll be making, whether it's upfront or based on sales, all that stuff that Wendy's going to help you figure out. And in terms of you and me, we agreed we'd take things a day at a time. So for today, you're just Micky Dolenz, newly discovered artist who's splurging on a moderately cheapo motel so he can bang his broad in peace and privacy."

Micky let loose a bark of laughter and the mood lightened again. He reached out to cup her cheek and smiled with the light of affection and gratitude in his eyes.

"Thanks, babe. You keep my feet on the ground and pointed in the right direction."

"Well if I ever run into you and they're on backwards, I'll know you're not my Micky and that you were kidnapped by space aliens and I'll send out the SOS for the real you."

They embraced and kissed lightly. Micky yawned, which made Gabby yawn, because everyone knows that yawns are contagious. They got out of the tub, dried each other off and climbed into bed. Micky observed "Wow, so many incredible things happened today. I got you back in my arms and I got my career on the road to a chance at legit success. It all feels like maybe too much grace."

Gabby snuggled closer to him and kissed his neck. "Just accept all the good when it comes to you, my love, because you're always going to have to do that when the bad rains down on you. You deserve all good things that come your way."

Micky took a shuddery, deep breath and said "You're right. I'm going to just take it all in and make merry as the day is long. Please stay with me for the journey, Gabby."

"I'm here, Micky. I'm home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

The guys met with the executives at Colgems Records, a new imprint affiliated with RCA Victor, created to release a new generation of younger, hipper music with a demographic similar to fans of the Beatles, though slightly younger. The Monkees were to be marketed as the American version of the Beatles, but with a more eclectic musical mix, reflecting their catalog of music influenced by the distinct personalities of the four guys. Mike's influence was country, Micky's was rock 'n bop, Peter's was folk and the blues, and Davy's was Broadway and ballads. With this wide range of diversity, the label hoped to cover a similarly wide range of tastes. The guys insisted that another element ought to be added, based on their recent experience attending the Monterey Pop Festival, that of psychedelic rock. Mike was already at work on several songs that incorporated that new strain of musical influence that was becoming so ubiquitous within the hippest music scene, particularly on the West Coast. Micky had ideas for using a new type of musical equipment, called a Moog Synthesizer, but had never had the bread to be able to afford one. Now, with the backing of the label, he hoped to write some new compositions for that innovative technology. The team was bubbling over with ideas and plans.

But first came the nitty gritty, which meant contract negotiations and commitments and concessions. Wendy acted as the band's agent, after having a strategy session with her boss, Clyde Wallichs and his brother Glenn, who was an executive at Capitol Records. They were glad to do her a favor and lend her their expertise and mentor her, particularly as they viewed her as a member of their extended family, and also because now that the boys were going to sign their first contract, they would recoup their investment in financing the demo the guys made for the track _Last Train To Clarksville_ , which they premiered at the Monterey Pop Festival to anyone who was willing to listen to it.

The first bone of contention that arose was that the label wanted the guys to contribute only their vocal talents to the record and leave the instrumentals to studio musicians. This was a fairly common practice at the time. The Beach Boys, The Mamas & The Papas, and many of producer Phil Spector's groups had used a group called The Wrecking Crew, a collection of professional musicians whose specialty was their ability to quickly assimilate a new piece of music and produce a useable master track within the minimum number of takes. The Monkees naturally objected to this arrangement, arguing that while the addition of studio musicians would add much to the sound and efficiency of their albums, the subtraction of their own musical talents would invalidate the organic sound of their songs and the quality that their fans appreciated and the reason why the label signed them in the first place.

The guys debated what tactic to take. Davy and Micky were less concerned about who played the instruments than getting their songs out to the public. As a percussionist and sometimes substitute for Micky or Peter on their instruments, Davy had very little skin in the game when it came to making the music. Similarly, even though Micky wrote some of the songs, he reckoned that if there was a drummer who could nail a master take faster and better than he could, it didn't matter much to him, as long as he could play his own instrument when they were touring. What was really important to him was to have people hear his lyrics and listen to him sing them.

Mike and Pete were appalled at the idea of not being able to play their own instruments on the records. They were both more than proficient musicians, they were outstanding at their craft. Mike had taught himself how to play the guitar only a couple of years before he met the guys and within a couple of weeks of beginning his self-study he was hosting concerts for people. He was a prolific songwriter and a technically excellent guitarist, preferring the more challenging 12-string guitar to the easier 6-string. He had also taught himself how to play the pedal steel guitar, and could play the organ and piano, harmonica, as well as bass guitar. 

Peter was a savant when it came to music. He had mastery of almost a dozen instruments, including guitar, bass guitar, piano, French horn, harmonica, drums, organ and numerous different types of keyboards. Like Mike, he also was a songwriter, but unlike any of the other guys in the band, he had formal training in music theory and could notate and orchestrate music. He and Mike worked with Micky's natural gift to harmonize to construct complicated arrangements for their songs. In short, they were the real deal and they weren't going to cede either creative control or their right to make their own music over to anyone, no matter how talented or professional they were. 

The guys decided that their position would be that they would agree to accommodate the use of session musicians, and since Micky didn't mind being supplanted occasionally by another drummer where necessary for a more complicated drum fill or maneuver, he would be flexible, but Peter and Mike would play their own instruments on every track. Davy also would stay flexible and compromise where necessary. After consulting with Clyde Wallichs, Wendy reported back to the guys that this was the best they were going to get and that he said that they might even benefit from playing alongside the guys from the Wrecking Crew. Thus they established an uneasy initial agreement with the label for their first album.

The next topic for negotiation was creative control. The company wanted to bring in proven outside songwriters. The guys were insistent that only their own songs be recorded and no outside songwriters be used unless they agreed on the collaboration. Since they already had a broad catalog of songs, it seemed reasonable that there were enough useable ones for the first album at least, if not for multiple albums. Once again a compromise had to be reached. The Monkees were given the A side on the first release, _Last Train To Clarksville_ , and depending upon its success, would be guaranteed the B side of the rest of any other singles released with an option on another A side if _Clarksville_ cracked the Billboard Top 10. If _Clarksville_ hit number one, they would revisit the decision to allow the Monkees to fill the album with all their own songs. They would record many more songs than were needed and then make the final cut based on audience reaction. Again, the Monkees decided not to let perfect be the enemy of the good and accepted the terms, reasoning that once they established a track record of successful sales and garnered a strong following, they could strengthen their negotiating position.

Finally, the talks turned to money. They each received an advance lump sum, kind of like a signing bonus. But the real bucks would only arrive if sales went well. So in Micky's mind, that meant that most likely the domestic living situation would stay status quo. He felt surprisingly relieved. He had just gotten things back to normal with Gabby and he didn't want to push things along too fast. He wanted her to be able to settle back into the relationship and just have fun, be at ease, and feel safe. Frankly, he wanted the same thing for himself, too. He felt like he had been on tenterhooks, trying to abstain from his primal urges while making the most of the time by doing deep delves into his own psyche. He didn't want to do anymore navel gazing. He just wanted to enjoy loving Gabby and making memories with her. And now to enjoy living his dream of becoming a star, if he could.

A formal contract signing event was staged for the press. Colgems was sparing no expense at launching the Monkees as the next big pop sensation. No questions or interviews were granted at the event. The guys were uncomfortably aware that they were being tightly managed, but they realized that at this point, they were in no position to question the setup. They were novices and had virtually no leverage. They had already extracted more concessions than Clyde had expected, so they agreed to go along to get along for now.

After the event, at which all their girls were present (surprisingly, Jan was there for Davy, much to everyone's delight, chatting amicably with Lynda, much to everyone's relief), the Colgems executive in charge of them, Bob Rafelson, pulled them aside for a quick conference before they walked over to join their girls.

"Guys, listen up , before you go over and get all friendly with your gals," he began in an uncomfortable tone of voice that alerted them that he was about to serve them a bite of shit sandwich and hoped they understood he was just the server and not the chef. 

"Here's the thing, guys. You're going to be marketed as heartthrobs and every teenage girl's dream lover. Maybe we'll even get lucky and catch the slightly older demographic. But if you're real public about being in committed, monogamous relationships, that's gonna cramp the band's style marketing-wise. Now I'm not telling you what to do in your free time, but you gotta keep it on the down low. We're already in negotiations with one of the teen magazines for exclusive rights to stories about the Monkees. And some of those stories will be setups, like "Win a Date With Davy," or "The Ten Things Peter's Looking For In A Girlfriend." You know, the usual stuff. You gotta build the fantasy. That's a huge part of what sells records. So no more inviting your gals to official events. And keep a low profile on what you do with them. Don't be seen at hotspots all over town with them. Don't go blabbing to the press that you're in love or on your way to the altar. And for God's sake, don't get married or get your chicks knocked up!"

Peter's eyes welled up with tears and his bottom lip quivered. Mike stepped in and just said "Yeah, man. Understood," and hustled Peter out of the room. He pushed him into the men's room, where the other guys followed. Peter promptly burst into tears. 

"Miiiiiiiiike, but what about Dawn and our babies? Besides the music, that's all I'm living for. He might have just as well castrated me or put a knife through my heart."

Mike put a comforting arm around Peter's shoulder. He wasn't a touchy feely guy, but he knew an emergency meltdown situation when he saw one, and he didn't want Pete going back out there and telling Rafelson he was backing out of the deal for the sake of his unborn children.

"Shhhhhh, Pete, it's gonna be okay. Just take it easy. He's just sayin' we gotta play make believe, like fairy tales. You know, like we did when we were kids. Like we'd say 'What do you want to be when you grow up?' and then we'd pretend, ya know? So that's all it is. Pretend. You're gonna pretend you're a single, heartthrob rock 'n roller, right? That's got nothin' to do with what you do in your private life. You just gotta keep it real private. And Pete, for everyone's sake, don't go makin' no babies until we've got more leverage to call our own shots, right? Just wait a while longer. And since you won't be havin' kids yet, there's no point in gettin' married yet either. I promise you Dawn will be cool with that, but you talk to her and see if I'm wrong. She'll want what's best for the group because we all agreed that that's the way we're all gonna get our heart's desire. We're all in this together. We all want things we can't have yet. Just ride it out. I promise you, one way or another, fail or succeed as a band, you'll get what you want someday. Okay?"

Peter sniffled, wiped the tears from his eyes, squared his shoulders and stood up straighter. "You're right, Mike. Nobody's telling me never, just not now. But I'll be damned if I wait till Rafelson says it's okay. We'll decide as a group, but ultimately it's up to me and Dawn."

The guys exchanged looks of trepidation and shivers at the thought of Pete going rogue. Pete noticed and reassured them. 

"Don't worry, guys. I won't let you down. I figure we're all stuck in the same fix. How are we gonna break this to the girls?"

Another shiver convulsed the group. They exchanged looks of dread and bewilderment. Micky grinned and said "Well for once I've got it easy. I can't even get Gabby to agree to move in with me."

Mike spitefully wiped the grin off Micky's face. "Oh yeah, well how happy is she gonna be wavin' goodbye to you when you're leavin' with some lucky contest winner for her date with the irresistible Monkees drummer Micky Dolenz?" He was sneering at Micky with several of his crooked teeth bared. Micky glowered back at him fiercely. Davy stepped in to settle the matter.

"Oy, chums, we can't be 'aving a go at each other every time The Powers That Be drop a stink bomb at our garden party. We've got to stick together and maintain a united front, yeh?" 

Mike shook himself out of his self-defensive, hostile mood and said, "Yeah, man, you're right. Sorry about that, Micky. I guess we'd better go out there and explain it to the girls. Let's go to the Pad and have one of Gabby's famous family meetin's to get it all out on the table."

The girls greeted their guys with attempted hugs and other signs of affection which were rebuffed, since the press were still hanging around. Mike had a solemn look on his face and tersely said "Family meetin', now, the Pad. I'm really sorry, girls."

The girls looked bewildered but just shrugged their shoulders. Jan had never attended a family meeting and asked if she should be there. Gabby affirmed that if she wanted to be Davy's woman, she definitely should attend. Moreover, she theorized, if he'd invited her to this momentous occasion, he probably wanted her to achieve that status. Jan thanked her sincerely for the welcoming encouragement. They followed in their cars to the Pad.

When they arrived, Mike was pacing back and forth, wringing his hands, trying to figure out how to soften the blow. Wendy took matters from his hands, however, by surmising what this little chat was to be about.

"You just got the birds and bees lecture from your producer, Rafelson, about the no chicks rule, right, Mikey?" She leaned casually against the psychiatrist's couch with a blasé, unruffled look on her face.

"Y-y-yeah, h-h-how'd you know?"

"First of all, Clyde already warned me it would probably be coming, and secondly, I was watching and I could read everyone's body language, especially Peter's."

This set Peter's waterworks flowing again and he ran over to Dawn and wailed "Oh, Dawn, they want us to pretend we don't have girlfriends so we can attract the girl fans, but that's not all. He told us we can't get married or have children!!!"

Dawn's brow furrowed and her expression darkened like a thunderstorm. "What in the holy fuck are we talking about here? You are signing a recording contract, not joining a fucking monastery!"

Pete's voice was rising to a hysterical register. "No, they want to do promotions where they send me out on dates with girl fans and I'm supposed to be a sex symbol for the fans, and I can't be that if I'm married with a kid on the way." Peter was now sobbing into Dawn's shoulder and neck, drenching her with his tears and overwhelming her with his emotions.

She stroked his hair and shushed him, trying to get him to calm down. Everyone just held their peace and let Pete emote and cry himself out. When the worst of the storm had passed, Dawn guided him to the other couch and let him slump into her arms, totally bereft and wrung out with emotion. 

Dawn requested "Can someone with a cooler head and some perspective explain the situation so I don't start planning whose head to rip off or testicles to kick?"

Mike recounted the conversation they had with Rafelson, with an assist from Wendy, who explained what Clyde had told her about how such marketing strategies were deployed in aid of reaching a certain demographic. She spoke soothingly and authoritatively.

"Gals, we should take this as a good sign and the ultimate compliment. It means they're going all out for the fellas. They're constructing a whole Monkees identity and Monkees universe for their fans to dwell in. It means big bucks. It shows major commitment on the part of the label. It shows they're not just taking a flyer on an untested band. They think these guys are the real deal and they're making a huge investment."

Everyone, including the guys, paused and gazed at each other with slack jaws, O-shaped mouths, wide eyes and lifted eyebrows. None of them had perceived the wider ramifications of the conversation with Rafelson. Suddenly, the magnitude of what they had undertaken hit them like a freight train, and they realized that their lives were about to be drastically altered.

Micky spoke first. "Holy shit! This is the real deal. The big time. We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto."

Davy, who didn't grow up watching movies like _The Wizard Of Oz_ exclaimed "Micky, are you daft? We're in Malibu!"

Peter, who was already beyond distraught and well on his way to punchy, began to laugh hysterically. "Hahaha! For once, I'm not the dummy! That's a line from a movie, Davy."

Davy blushed and straightened his already immaculate collar. "Yeh, well, I didn't get to see many flicks when I was a lad. We were too poor and I was busy earning me keep mucking out stables."

Peter also blushed, but from shame, and apologized. Davy reassured him it was okay. "I've still got some catching up to do on American pop culture. Maybe if we hit it big I'll have the time and dough."

Jan nudged Davy and said "You don't need much of either of those to get hip to the scene, Davy. You just need an enthusiastic, patient tour guide. I happen to be available. How about we work our way down the Hollywood Boulevard Walk of Fame, where all the stars are? I'll bet one day you guys will have one. We can pick out a good spot for it."

Davy grinned appreciatively and said "Sounds brilliant, Jan," and gave her a squeeze. Gabby looked on with jubilation and gratitude that Davy seemed to have found someone who he could happily spend time with. She caught his eye and he gave her an almost imperceptible wink.

Mike cleared his throat and strove to regain control of the meeting. "Okay, so now that Wendy's explained it all to us, who's got somethin' they want to say?"

Surprisingly, Micky piped up next. "Well, you all know how I feel about getting thrown to the groupies and getting groped, except you, Jan, but someone can fill you in later. I give my permission to share my dirty laundry with our newest family member." Jan blushed and Davy squeezed her hand. Micky continued: "I'm okay with these fake contest dates and phony interviews as long as that's all they are. But the minute the label tries to set me up on a for real date with some chick for publicity, I draw the line, unless she comes over and meets Gabby and shakes her hand and acknowledges up front it's a phony date. I'm not having Gabby reading some gossip rag and wondering whether any of these phony dates got real somewhere between dinner and dessert." He crossed the room and slung a proprietary, assuring arm around Gabby, bent over and kissed her firmly.

Peter tagged on a "That goes double for me!"

Mike sighed and agreed, "Yeah, I have to say I agree with you guys. But we need to be a little less strident and hostile about it. Can we skip the confrontational approach and just allow our partners to trust our good judgment and commitment to them that we're not gonna cheat on them with these poor fans who are just chasin' a fantasy unless they get aggressive like what Micky ran into at that one gig? And in terms of the label settin' us up on celebrity dates to generate publicity and buzz, we'll make the intros or take whatever other steps we feel we need to, to maintain boundaries so things don't get mixed up and hurt our partners. Gals, you got anythin' you want to say?"

Dawn had worked up a head of steam and now was going to blow. She stood up and walked to the center of the group, planting her feet and squaring her shoulders in a stance that made Davy think of a rugby player. "Listen, guys, you know Peter and I agreed to cool it until you hit the big time and now that you've hit it, you're telling us we've got to continue to put our lives on hold? For how long? How much fame, fortune and pimply faced and padded bra-ed teenyboppers do you guys need to rack up before I finally get to do what I want with my reproductive organs?"

No one said anything. What could be said? A new life versus a fake life? There was no contest. Wendy spoke up, carefully, knowing Dawn had the potential to go full-on Mount Vesuvius when sufficiently provoked.

"Listen Dawn. Do you remember tearing me apart at Denny's not too long ago for being irresponsible with _my_ reproductive equipment? You sure felt plenty high and mighty schooling me about how a mistake I made, which anyone could make, could jeopardize all our futures. Now the shoe is on the other foot and it doesn't feel so good, does it?"

Dawn unleashed her fury on Wendy. "I didn't chew you out for missing your birth control pill, girl, I yelled at you for fucking Mike in the backseat of the car after you knew you had missed the pill and were potentially not protected. And I yelled at you for being a hormonal, hypocritical bitch on wheels while you were sweating out the wait for Aunt Flo to show up for her monthly visit!"

Wendy looked only moderately put out with Dawn spilling all her dirt in front of the family. She had her eyes on the prize and was determined to carry her point and save the situation. Mike, however, was looking pale and faint, having never been filled in on any of this drama. Wendy, as usual, had decided to be the maverick and refused her friends' advice to inform Mike about her pregnancy scare. 

Wendy brushed this aside and said, "Listen, Dawn, the larger point remains that back then you realized that our fortunes rise and fall as a group, as one, as a family, as Gabby says. Well, this family does not have the wherewithal to support another life yet. We need to get the boys' career off the ground first. All of us are making sacrifices, but they're maybe not ones you can see. You think I'm not dying to claim my man and stop living with two girls like a college freshman? You think you're the only one who wants something she can't have? Get a grip! And think of the guys. You think they like the idea of going back on the meat market? They're doing this for us, so we can all have the lives we want. So put your big girl panties on and just hang in there. We just have to ride this out for a little while. Once the guys become a success, they'll get to call the shots. It's only a one record deal. If they want to walk, they can. But it's also only a year to prove they can make marketable music. Your ovaries and eggs will keep for a little while longer. So cool your jets, girlie. Okay, I'm done talking. What do you want to scream at me? Give it to me."

Dawn shook her head and bowed it towards the floor. She walked back over to Peter, sat down on the couch next to him, and tangled fingers with his. She butted her head against his lips and he kissed her forehead. 

Wendy asked Gabby, "You got two cents to flip into the pot, Gabby?" 

"Not really. I'm not worried about Micky's fidelity, I'm worried about his sanity and emotional well-being, so if he says he can handle this gauntlet, then I'm okay with it, though I appreciate your allowing me to vet your dates, my Micky." She smiled at him affectionately and with a hint of mischief.

Dawn was still smarting and couldn't help snarking at Gabby "Let's face it Gabby, this plays right into your stalling strategy with Micky. You're in no hurry to get anywhere with your relationship, so this gives you the perfect excuse to drag your feet without it looking like that's what you're doing."

Gabby leapt to her feet and charged over to Dawn, but Micky restrained her by wrapping his arms around her from behind. He whispered in her ear "Gabby, don't let her bait you. We know who we are. They don't." But Gabby would not be entirely silenced.

"Dawn, you know full well the damage Wendy caused between Micky and me by talking outta her ass by making assumptions about our relationship when we were in Palm Springs. She almost broke us. I'm not going to let you do the same thing. In fact, you couldn't if you tried. But I'm going to tell you what I told Wendy and you backed me up when it wasn't you on the hot seat — don't be a shit stirrer based on assumptions and incomplete information. You don't know jack about me and Micky, unless you were hiding in the bathroom last night while we were in the bathtub discussing our future. So step off, friend. I'm not going to defend the way Micky and I live our lives and I've never criticized yours. Live and let live is my motto. There's plenty you and Peter get up to that doesn't fit in with my idea of how to live right, so keep your judgments and opinions to yourself."

Now everyone was intrigued by this last statement and both Peter and Dawn asked a version of "What does _that_ mean?"

Gabby responded "Drugs, your pharmaceutical and herbal route to mindfulness and enlightenment. You think the press isn't going to be sniffing around trying to pick up on anything that will bust the guys' image wide open? Did you know that The Rolling Stones were supposed to play at the Monterey Pop Festival but they couldn't get work visas because of their drugs convictions? And do you plan to continue getting stoned after you become a mom? What about Daddy Tork? You see what a quagmire we can get into when we start taking other people's inventory?"

Dawn responded defensively "Pete and I aren't the only partakers in the group. Everyone uses them."

Gabby retorted "Not me and Micky. He stopped as soon as we got together. So once again you don't know jack about me and Micky. So what about it, everyone, what about drugs? I assume nobody's sacrificing that indulgence, so stop whining about how hard done by you are that for now we have to adjust to an uncomfortable situation. If we're at each other's throats, if we don't mutually support each other, if we're busy judging each other and picking at each other's soft underbellies, then this whole thing is going to fall apart. Wendy's right. We have to stick together. If you want to know what I'm sacrificing, if you think I don't have skin in the game, I'll tell you. I want a dog as much as Dawn wants a baby. I've even picked out the breed and the name. And don't you dare tell me that's not the same thing, because to me it is. Whether it's on my own or with Micky, that's my yearning dream that calls to me like a siren from the sea. I'm hoping to God it will be something I do with Micky and for your information, not that it's any of your business, we've talked extensively about it. Are you satisfied?"

Dawn mumbled "Yeah, I get it. I'm sorry I judged you and made assumptions that were unfair and based on exploring the contents of my ass instead of talking to you or Micky. Please forgive me." She reached out to Gabby to request a hug, which Gabby granted.

Davy asked Lynda for her opinion. She smiled, stood up, smoothed her skirt and said "Well, first off, let me say I appreciate still being included in the good times, like the signing press conference, and the crappy ones, like this meeting. I know my dating Robert could have changed my status as a so-called family member, but Davy's been a good egg about us both moving on with good grace and maintaining the friendship, which is really all we ever were." She was now facing Jan and gave her a reassuring nod of the head and a wink.

"In terms of the situation and how to approach it, I think you all should put your faith in Wendy. Not because she's famous for her excellent judgment when it comes to running her own life," Lynda laughed as Wendy stuck her tongue out and flipped her the bird. "The reason to follow Wendy's lead is because you entrusted her to advise you. She's tapped in with the Wallichs brothers. We're lucky to have them mentoring her, and she runs everything by them. So let her talk to them about this, but I suspect they'll advise you to go along to get along. But let's be realistic. If this label launches you with an image you hate, you can move on and sign with someone else with some experience and proven marketability behind you, can't you? I mean, it's better than being unknown and playing club gigs until you're old men. I don't see what you've got to lose. Think of it like an apprenticeship. They're humbling and grinding, but they're a rite of passage in England. You have to pay your dues, prove your mettle, learn your craft. Right, Davy?"

"Yeh, I see your point," Davy nodded. "I was apprenticing to be a jockey before I left for the U.S., and that was going to take five yeahrs."

Mike asked Jan if she had anything to say. She flushed with pleasure at being asked. "Nothing other than to say I dig how you all talk things through as a group, and I appreciate being included. I'm willing to hang back and be Davy's secret mistress." She winked in exaggerated manner at him and he grinned at her cheeky spunk. It reminded him of Gabby.

Mike cleared his throat and said "Well, I reckon I ought to chip in to the discussion and say mah peace. I agree with Wendy that we should go with the flow, subject to any feedback we get from the Wallichs brothers. Wendy, you'll run it by them and unless they say this is way outta line, we'll go along."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

The meeting adjourned and everyone milled around, making separate plans for the rest of the day. Wendy sensed lingering disunity and mentioned it to Mike. They felt this was a threat to the group's harmony and must be addressed immediately. After a quick conference, Wendy made an announcement. 

"Okay, family, we need to do something fun and get away from the bad vibes. Since we have to keep a low profile, let's head south down the coast to Palos Verdes. The last time we went, it wasn't perfect. Davy was starving under the shadow of death trying to flunk his military draft physical , Lynda couldn't be there, and we didn't know Jan or Robert yet. What do you say?"

Lynda said without a beat "I'll call Robert at the store and see if he can get away." 

That seemed to determine the matter and no one objected. Wendy asked, as if it were a settled matter "Is everyone up for Marineland, or do you just want to hang out at RAT beach?"

Dawn curled her lip and sneered "Ewww, are there really rats there?"

Wendy rolled her eyes and said "No, princess, it's an acronym that stands for Right After Torrance Beach. We could also hit Casa Pulido again and Davy could eat like a human being this time."

Lynda returned from phoning Robert and said he'd be free for them to pick him up whenever they were ready. 

Wendy looked to Gabby for support. Gabby sighed and yelled "Okay, gang, listen up. Get your asses out to the cars. Pete and Dawn, you can ride with Micky and me, and you can even go at it like rabbits in the back seat and we won't give you the blues about it. Jan, can you and Davy go with Mike and Wendy in the Monkeemobile? There should be room for Lynda and Robert as well." 

Gabby put her arms around Peter and Dawn and said "Okay, you two, your sin wagon chariot awaits. Just make sure you use protection." Dawn couldn't decide whether to clobber Gabby or crack up laughing, but being of a basically peaceful and loving nature, she opted to laugh. Plus, she was hungry for Peter, and she knew a good shagging would help him calm down after the trauma of the day. She decided not to press her luck and told Pete to put the joint he was about to blaze up back in his pocket, explaining that Gabby's generosity had its limits.

The guys grabbed their swimsuits and Dawn and Gabby loaned the suits they kept at the Pad to Lynda and Jan. They made a quick stop at the girls' apartment to pick up more swimwear and then swung by Robert's apartment to collect him. They finally set off for Marineland and Micky and Gabby had to blast the radio to cover up what was going on in the backseat of her car. It was a relief when they were heading up Palos Verdes Drive West and Gabby snarkily gave them the ten minute warning to finish up as Micky sniggered into his T-shirt to muffle the sound. 

After entering the park, Davy dragged everyone over to the cliffs so that they could see and hear the barking seals sunning themselves on the rocks below. 

"The last time I was here I couldn't believe me eyes. Oy, Jan, look at this! Isn't this wild?" 

"I feel the same way," she responded in wonder. "I'm a Vermont gal, Davy. I've never seen anything like this either!"

As they clasped hands and shared the moment appreciatively, Davy remembered that he had wanted to share that moment with Lynda the first time he'd seen them when she'd been absent from their group that day. But now she was there with Robert, so he decided not to say anything to her. That moment was in the past. Best to move forward with Jan and give her his best effort. He found her attractive, fun, bright, savvy, mature and not repulsed by his past, which he had disclosed upfront to avoid leading her on or to at least hasten the process of being dumped unceremoniously if she was turned off. She seemed to have it all, yet he still felt off-kilter, like he was unsure of his footing and like his whole heart wasn't in it. There was a stray piece of his heart pulling in another direction, towards Gabby, and he berated himself daily for his ungovernable thoughts and urges. He shook his mind from the fruitless contemplation of a woman he couldn't have that he went through over and over, though less frequently now that he'd met Jan. He really enjoyed her company and hoped she'd stick around. He reflected for the hundredth or more time the irony that his love 'em and leave 'em lifestyle had left him such an empty husk that now he found himself grateful to any girl willing to stick around and date him for longer than a week.

They made the circuit of the various attractions and shows, including the dolphins, walruses, trained seals, and the ultimate finale, the killer orca whales, Orky and Corky. The group kept mum about the impending water splashing doom their friends who hadn't attended their first visit to the park were about to suffer. On cue, the whales used their mighty flippers to splash the audience, and Lynda, Robert and Jan were duly shocked and soaked. Davy took pleasure in playing the gallant knight and offered his jacket to a shivering Jan, who accepted it gratefully. 

In the spirit of this being a do-over for Davy, who had been on an extreme weight loss regimen when they last visited the park and they had all avoided the junk food in solidarity with him, this time everyone went a little nuts and pigged out. Micky got cotton candy and insisted that Gabby share the story about her hidden talent at making the stuff. He also whispered into her ear something very improper about where he'd like to put some of the fluff and have her lick it off him. She giggled and slapped his grinning cheek lightly. Once everyone had gorged themselves silly, it was agreed it was time to move on to their next stop, the beach.

RAT Beach is a small sliver of wild, untamed beach unclaimed by any municipality but it sits on the dividing line between Palos Verdes and the city of Torrance, whose beach they had visited on their last trip down the coast. In contrast to Torrance Beach's neatly paved Strand and orderly rows of lifeguard stations and public restrooms, RAT is just a primitive slab of beach where you take nature as she is. The beach is accessible only by trekking up the coast about a half a mile from Torrance Beach, or by parking at the top of the cliffs in Palos Verdes and hiking down a trail to the shore below. Wendy steered the group to the trail because it wasn't steep or likely to trigger Mike's notorious fear of heights, and it was a much shorter route. 

At the bottom of the path, the beach revealed a pebbly, dirt-packed surface for the first hundred or so yards before giving way gradually to sand. There was a complex field of tide pools that immediately drew Pete's attention, and he waded in to examine the small sea creatures inhabiting it. 

"Dawn, everybody, check this out," he cried as he stooped over to pick something gently out of the water. He held his hand out and in it was nestled a tiny starfish. Gasps and murmurs of appreciation rippled through the group and Dawn, Davy, Jan and Robert waded in to see what else called the pools between the rocks home. The rest of the group laid towels and blankets down and lounged. 

Micky was jonesing, watching the surf but unable to join it for a game. "I wish I could have brought my surfboard down with us," he groaned. 

Gabby replied, "Not if you value your life. The surfers around here are viciously territorial. They call themselves the Bay Boys, and they mostly dominate the waters of the coast by my high school, but they can migrate down here too if they feel like getting in a rumble."

Micky was shocked. "You mean there are actually surfer gangs?"

"Yeah, pathetic, isn't it?" Gabby rolled her eyes. "Those are the knuckleheads I went to school with my whole life. Burnouts who would skip class, get stoned, surf and mooch off their parents. Most of them are still living with their folks, cashing in the deposits on soda bottles they scrounge for to make enough bread to live off of, getting the rest of their money from stealing from their parents or robbing their friends' parents. 'Nother reason why this place is a fool's fake paradise. That's why I hope you'll keep your feet on the ground after you become the next big thing, Micky. Surface things, material possessions, they're great, but they can be corrosive."

"Yeah, I get you. I don't think you have to worry about me. Of all the four of us, I come from the most privileged background, not to mention surviving the acting fame ego trip once already with the _Circus Boy_ series."

"You're right, Micky. I'm sorry, you know you're so down to earth and normal that I didn't even remember that about you."

"That's a good thing. I don't like it to define me. And I definitely feel like I'm starting at square one with this recording contract. It's a whole different bag."

Micky turned to face Gabby head on and ran a hand over the lines of her shiny, curved bobbed haircut that skimmed her jawline. It drove him wild to touch it, to follow it to her lips and linger slowly on his journey there. When his finger arrived there, his mouth followed it, pulling at her bottom lip and sucking it in, requesting entry for his tongue, which she granted with a sigh of contentment. He turned to lie flat on his back and rolled her on his body and held her to him, clutching her tightly, pressing her into him, wrapping his legs around her, as if to make them one being.

"Gabby, I like how you handled yourself during the family meeting. You said that you weren't worried about my fidelity. I can't tell you how much that means to me. I would think that would be your number one concern, given my past with hitting on groupies, not whether the money's going to go to my head."

Gabby paused to think about it and responded "Well, I just figure that you've fought and worked so hard for this relationship, why would you mess that up? Plus, we agreed that if there are things you want that I can't or won't give you, you'll tell me, dump my ass and move on. Right?"

Micky laughed and gave her another firm squeeze. "Yeah, that's what our contract says. Wendy and Dawn probably think you're holding out on me to make sure I value it more so I won't go chasing tail."

Gabby raised her head so that she could look Micky bang in the eyes. "I'm not holding out on you, Micky. You don't think that, do you?"

Micky realized he'd put his foot in his mouth and scrambled to dig himself out of another hole. "No, no, that's not what _I_ think, that's what _they_ think. I personally think that everyone else is rushing headlong into really serious decisions that they seem to be making inexplicably quickly. I mean, hell, we've only known you girls for a summer. How can that be enough time to know what's right for the rest of your life?"

Gabby was still frowning. Now she realized she knew how Micky felt that night in June when they were in Palm Springs having a bath together when they had that awful fight. All this time she'd known Micky, she'd been saying just what he'd said right now. _We need to wait. We're too young and immature to make life decisions. We haven't known each other long enough. We each have baggage to sort out and heal from. We have different life goals that might not be compatible._ And here was Micky, saying exactly what she wanted to hear, but it didn't please her. She suddenly envied her friends' certainty about what they wanted and the clear path they saw in front of them guiding the way to get there.

"Micky, I don't want to confuse you, but I need to say something, to confess something to you, because it's in the nature of an amends I think I owe you. I'm having a reaction similar to the one you had that awful night in the bathtub in Palm Springs." She described for him the thoughts that had just passed through her mind. Far from being angry, self-righteous or perturbed, all of which Gabby felt he was entitled to be, Micky was extremely amused.

"Well doesn't that just beat all?" He sat up and slapped his leg and laughed.

"What, that I'm a fuckin' hypocrite and a liar?" Gabby asked incredulously, quoting back the words Micky had used that night to describe himself when he pulled a 180 on her.

"No, that you're human and I'm human and we're not robots, just like I said. Do you have any explanation for that reaction going through your mind? Because if you remember, I couldn't come up with one other than that I was having a temper tantrum because I was being told I couldn't have something. It was just like a childish impulse, or a grass is always greener on the other side type thing that struck me. It didn't even really feel real. I was as appalled at myself as you were."

Gabby shook her head and said "Nope, I haven't a clue where those thoughts are coming from, other than that I envy the other girls' certainty and clarity about what they want and how to get it. I think you're on to something when you say it's just like a kid's temper tantrum or contrariness. But Micky, I owe you an apology for two things. First, for my harsh reaction to your acting out like this back then. I can see now that it was sort of an irresistible impulse. And second, for any confusion I may be causing you now by having these thoughts myself. I'm not trying to jerk you around or confuse you and I'm pretty sure this isn't my sane, conscious brain having rational thoughts. It's like that lizard brain that just sticks its tongue out and goes for the food because it's in front of it. No forethought, no consequences. I frankly think that's how Dawn is behaving right now, and I don't think it's a good idea. But let's not go there again. Let's just do like we always say. Stick to the plan, walk before we run, take baby steps, and I'll add my new favorite mantra, keep it in the day and do what's in front of us."

Micky opened his arms to her for a hug and she crawled into his lap to grant it. "Agreed, my Gabby. We're just going to do our thing. Leave the others to their plans and dreams. So you really want a dog like Dawn wants a baby?"

"Yeah, really. So I do have maternal instincts, just for a different species. I'll bet you thought I couldn't love anyone other than you or myself, but it isn't true. I'm even looking forward to being an aunt when Pete and Dawn start spawning."

Micky stroked his chin and nodded thoughtfully. As was his habit now, when his mind alighted on the topic of having children with Gabby, he asked himself why he thought he wanted them. He had eliminated some of the obvious, typical reasons. It wasn't so that they could be closer together as a couple. They practically shared a brain already. It wasn't to carry on the Dolenz name, as he hadn't been particularly close to his father and his deceased cousin George had brothers, so the name would carry on. 

He had it narrowed down to a few possibilities, the main one being that it would just bring him joy. Was that a good enough reason, or was that selfish, given the lifestyle he was going to be adopting and the fact that the lion's share of the burden of raising a child or children would fall on Gabby? He realized that that was the reason why Gabby had to be enthusiastically on board with the idea or he'd have to either relinquish it or find another woman to marry and have children with. He knew for sure that Gabby would have to age and mature into that type of change of attitude. He had decided for now to just ignore the question, but to hear that she at least had maternal instincts, strong ones for dogs and normal ones for other people's children made him feel welcome optimism. His heart soared but he tamped it down to a tiny yippee and let a smile play around his lips.

"That makes me really happy to hear, Gabby. I think that's great. I didn't think you were incapable of loving others, but this is new information you're sharing with me. You're always kind of touchy about the topic, so I've never asked or drawn assumptions. You were just a blank slate to me on that subject and I'm glad to know you better. Always glad to know you better." He hugged her tightly and felt the happiness swell in his chest.

Robert, Dawn and Jan were sitting on a blanket. Jan was putting a French braid in Robert's waist length red hair, while Lynda looked on with an amused expression. Lynda asked "Jan, how'd you get so good at doing hair?"

Jan blushed and said "Uhm, well, I basically ran a beauty shop for all my dolls in my basement playroom when I was a kid. I had one doll who had red hair like me that I was obsessed with and I did her hair in all sorts of braids. I was a real girlie girl; in fact, I still am. I got so excited when the Barbie Doll came out. Even though I was nearly done with high school, I went right out and bought one and a bunch of her clothes. I still collect them." She leaned towards Robert and Lynda conspiratorially, whispering "Don't tell Davy, though. I haven't mentioned it to him yet, and I haven't had him over to my place yet. I don't want to scare him off with my mad doll collection until he's hooked on me." She winked and smiled.

Lynda giggled and confided "Jan, you've been to the contract signing and a family meeting. I think it's pretty much well in hand now. Better invite him over to your funhouse to make sure it's not a deal breaker."

Robert asked "Can I come over and take some photos? That sounds like it would make a groovy art photography setup. That's one of my hobbies."

Jan was surprised and intrigued. "Yeah, as long as you bring your gal. Maybe you two can come over for dinner with Davy to help soften the blow."

Lynda said "Sounds like a date!"

Jan gave a satisfied smile and hugged her elbows, looking like she was happier than she felt she had a right to be. She looked like she had something on the tip of her tongue but wasn't sure if she ought to say it. Throwing care to the wind, she went ahead and blurted it out.

"Do you mind telling me the backstory behind you and Davy? I mean, how involved were you and how is it you managed to stay good friends, and how you and Robert met? I'm not jealous and I hope you don't think I'm nosy, but it would be good to know. I really do admire both of you, and you as well, Robert. I think your whole group is an extraordinary group of friends."

Lynda recounted her relationship with Davy and how she viewed them as just really good friends almost from the beginning. She explained that even though she realized the romance wasn't going to work out, she felt she needed to stand by him while he prepared to flunk his army physical. When they parted, she encouraged him to find a nice girl, and she said she was very glad he had found Jan. She tried to gloss over the part Davy's unsavory dating history played in the failure of the relationship, but Jan read between the lines and told Lynda that Davy had confessed all to her about his past with groupies. So Lynda explained that part of it and assured her that with her help, Davy had done a lot of work on himself and was in a much better place in his life to give Jan his all. She also praised how Davy had accepted Robert into the group immediately and unconditionally.

Robert said "Yeah, Davy was a real cool dude about me getting together with Lynda. I really respect him and I like him a lot. For my part, I met Lynda at Cornwall's, after Micky temporarily had become a member of the bookstore staff where I work. He only joined the staff so he could play on our softball team to save Gabby's honor because the other team was giving her a hard time for being a female captain and because she was a better player than they thought she was entitled to be as a woman. Also, Micky was on the way to being in love with Gabby. So I was on the team and Micky invited everyone to attend a gig, and I showed up one night and spotted this gorgeous, quietly confident gal and Gabby introduced me. It was all over right then and there for me, I was smitten, but I needed to wait until Lynda saw Davy through his draft physical. She's got real strong values and she's loyal, and I love that about her." He leaned over and gave her a smooch while Lynda beamed at him with delight.

Jan decided to go for broke since Lynda and Robert hadn't taken offense yet at any of her questions. "Micky mentioned it was okay to share his dirty laundry with me. What was he talking about?"

Lynda explained that at a gig one night, one of the female bookstore cashiers from where he and Robert had worked had ambushed him in the men's room and sexually groped him, that it had caused him extreme trauma, and had made it hard for him to perform at gigs without Gabby's presence near the stage. She also told her about the girl's subsequent stalking of him and Gabby, including watching them have sex through the windows at the Pad. Then she added the story about how Micky had had to take a stand against the rest of the Monkees because of them pressuring him to mingle with groupies when the band was trying to impress Clyde Wallichs. 

Jan shook her head and said "Man, I'm used to having to fend off creepy guys and the gropers, but I can see how a guy would be totally unprepared for that type of experience. It's like being set loose in a room full of sick toddlers when you have no immune system. As a woman, I'm just used to having to keep my guard up."

Lynda looked at her quizzically. "Then if you don't mind my asking, how is it that Davy's past dating habits don't bother you?"

Jan shrugged. "I can tell he's ready for something else. You seem to have brought him to his knees, Lynda. You had him down on his knees, praying for salvation. He had nothing left to hide because it's all in his past. I think he's running a mile from that version of himself. He's repulsed by that version of Davy. He wants to find a different way to live. I'm not naïve enough to think I'm going to turn him into a choirboy. I'm not really interested in a choirboy. I just want a guy who's moving in the right direction, which is towards me and towards his goal in life. So 'no users or losers' is my motto."

"Sounds reasonable," Lynda agreed. "You sound like you're just the girl to take him on."

"I hope so. If not, I'll bail out. I've been around musicians for a while now, working at Wallichs and going to other bands' gigs. I've seen their personality type and moods and vices. So far, Davy doesn't have any of them. The one he did have he's running away from as fast as he can. I think my biggest challenge is to get him to relax and let loose and just lean in and enjoy himself. He's got a serious martyr complex. Any tips on how to get him to shake that off?"

Lynda mulled it over and suggested "Let him be the gallant knight. You don't have to pretend to be a fluffy princess. Don't act like you can't fend for yourself. But ask him to do things for you. Give him opportunities to show you he's worthy. Put him to work."

Robert guffawed and shook his head. Lynda shot him a dirty look and said "Just count yourself lucky I never thought you needed rehabilitation, but that can change, Bub!"

Robert converted his expression into one of chastened adoration and said "Lynda honey, you know you already have me in the palm of your hand. I'm sitting here with you now. You know how many double shifts I'm going to have to pull to make up for ducking out of work?"

"Okay, good point. Thanks, lovey. I appreciate your making the family a priority, particularly as you probably feel like a distant cousin."

"Well, not really. Gabby's an old friend from our days working at the bookstore, and Micky and I worked together for a whole week! I'm expecting them to name their firstborn after me!"

Lynda looked annoyed. "Robert, DO NOT go raking up that issue. How dense can you be? What Dawn was insinuating without saying it is that Gabby doesn't want to have children. Micky thinks he does, and that's been a big issue between them."

Robert held up his palms in surrender. "Whoa, I didn't realize it. Why the fuck is everyone talking about kids already?"

Lynda sighed "I don't know. Maybe it's just the personalities involved. Or maybe it's that we've all been through some pretty intense experiences together and the bonds are really tight. I think Gabby would prefer that nobody be talking about marriage and babies and all that jazz. I mean, she freaked out when Micky just mentioned them maybe moving in together."

Robert got a panicked look on his face. "We aren't going to be talking about this topic anytime soon, are we?"

Lynda rolled her eyes and soothed him down, running a hand over his fancy French braid. "No, lovey, we're not. We've been dating for the blink of an eye, as far as I'm concerned, and you don't have a proper job to support a family. So stand down. Just enjoy not buying the cow and getting the milk for free."

Jan burst out laughing and began to howl with mirth. After a few minutes of rolling around on the blanket, she had laughed herself out and finally wiped away the tears from the corners of her eyes. "Oh, you guys are priceless! Well, don't encourage Davy to start asking about kids and marriage either. I may be a forgiving soul, but he's definitely on probation until I see how he fairs with this rock 'n roll lifestyle. I'm not sure how I'm going to like that."

Lynda nodded her head and said "Yes, it will be interesting to see how this changes everyone's lives, or not. I'm a pessimist by nature and country of origin, so I'm a little worried. That's another reason why I think Gabby and Micky have the right idea of taking things slow."

They all gazed over in the direction of said young lovers, who were now rolling around on their beach towel and having a good snog. Micky was on top of Gabby and pressing himself on her so that she was almost invisible.

Gabby came up for air and quickly got in a few words. "Micky, you're doing it again. That pressing hard into me thing. That always throws me. It either means you're incredibly horny and seriously in need of lovin', or you're feeling a bit insecure about you and me. Tell me which it is so I can take care of you."

Micky paused to take his internal temperature and said "A bit of both again. Horny as always. Insecure because I can't get it out of my mind that you might have to see me in the company of some other girl or woman and you said it wouldn't bother you. Part of me wishes you would say it _would_ bother you. Part of me wants you to be insanely jealous and possessive of me. That would make me feel that you really, really want me and would fight to the death to hang on to me. Isn't that dumb?"

Gabby sighed and said "No, it's not dumb, but you're thinking like a guy, not a feminist, which I know you really are. You don't want me not trusting you, or accusing you, or stalking you to check up on what you're getting up to behind my back, or being angry at you, or directing negative vibes at you. Because that's what would happen. If I were jealous, not all the negativity would get aimed at the other girl, you'd get caught in the crossfire. And you'd get your ego stroked and that would turn you into a smug, self-satisfied, evil monster like Nick was. So believe me when I tell you that it's an act of true love and the biggest gift I can give you to say that I trust you implicitly and I'm not going to spend a moment worrying about your fidelity to me. Do you understand my thinking?"

"Yeah, I get that. But what about fighting to the death for me?"

"Micky, the minute you step out of line, you're out. If you betray me by cheating on me, I consider that abuse because that's what Nick did to me. I'm not going to stick around and let you abuse me. You know what I've been through. If you cheat on me, knowing all I've been through, then you're not someone I want to be with. What could you possibly say or do to convince me to stay? I'm not interested in revisiting Trauma Town. So now you have your warning. I wasn't going to give it to you because I didn't think it was necessary. I figured you knew me well enough, knew my story well enough, to intuit that yourself. But now you know. 

"I love you beyond reason for the sacrifice you made to be with me. You gave up a life of carousing and chasing tail and being able to have almost any chick you wanted, and I have told you how much I appreciate it and shown my appreciation by setting aside all my trust issues about your background and my fear and trauma from what Nick did to me. It's an even swap of baggage and we stand on even ground and meet each other toe to toe. Neither of us wants to revisit our unpleasant pasts. I can't even conceive of you sliding back to your old ways, even as I imagine you can't see me going back to distrusting you or for that matter falling back into a pattern of taking abuse. It's just not on my radar. That's why I'm not hot and bothered by it. That's why I didn't get worried when all those girls from the bookstore were after you and jealous of me when they feasted their eyes on you. I knew you were mine and I was yours and that was the truth I could take to the bank. We've told each other 'You're my everything,' and that means the deepest 'I love you' there is."

Micky cogitated on this speech a moment and responded "Thanks for making your position clear, my Gabby. It all makes sense to me. In fact, you kind of made me feel like a million bucks in a weird way, even as you were telling me where to get off. Isn't that hilarious? I guess I must really love you." He laughed and buried his head in her neck and blew a raspberry on it, which got her giggling.

"Yeah, well, I guess I ought to tell you to get bent more often. So now how do we take care of the other part of your problem?"

He got that mischievous gleam in his eyes that said "I have a plan."

"What? What are you thinking? You have that evil scientist look on your face!" Gabby looked a bit concerned but also amused.

"Well, turnabout is fair play. Maybe we should make Peter and Dawn sit in the front seat on the way back home."

Gabby shook her head in the negative. "Oh, no. I am okay with being an exhibitionist when it's possible strangers who might witness our coupling, but I will not expose our friends to our sex life. Not even to prove to them that you and I have gotten past first base, which they seem to think we haven't, just because we aren't talking about rushing to the altar. Will you settle for waiting until tonight?"

"Gabriella, I'll wait for you until it's right, whenever that is." He let that answer sink in and then planted a magnificent kiss on her lips and reached down and squeezed her hand, their secret code for 'I'm wanting to make love to you and I know we can't do it now, so this is to let you know I am looking forward to the time when we can.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	8. Chapter 8

The guys' contract at Cornwall's was up at the end of September so the label decided to wait until after their last gig to send them into the studio to start recording. For their final gig, Gabby managed to finagle a small free ad in _Open City_ , the underground newspaper she wrote for, advertising the event, and many of the _cognoscenti_ of the underground music world showed up. Peter notified Stephen Stills, his buddy from the band Buffalo Springfield, who showed up toting along David Crosby, who had a little crush on Gabby despite knowing she was spoken for by Micky. He had met her at the Monterey Pop Festival and called her Scoop because she was there to report on the event, and he even took a shine to Micky, whom he called Mick the Knife. Stills also brought along another friend of his, none other than Cass Elliot of The Mamas & The Papas, known to her friends as Mama Cass. She had let Stills know she had a bit of a crush on Peter, and was undeterred by the information that Peter had a honey named Dawn. Cass was a whole lot of woman in every way, and was not intimidated by conventions such as monogamy or other such quaint obstacles. The final celebrity attendees were the Wallichs brothers, who really didn't consider themselves entitled to be considered celebrities, but just influential people in the music business with high hopes for a group they felt they had discovered.

The group mingled with their unusual guests before the show, pleased to be receiving such attention and solidarity from musicians they respected and hoped to emulate. Cass sauntered over to Peter and asked to be introduced. She quickly overtook his whole being like a velvet cloud and swept him into a dark corner to get better acquainted. Her husky voice, lush lips, wavy hair and seductive presence was overwhelming and Peter, with his guileless innocence and inexperience, not to mention impeccable manners, was powerless to resist her hefty charms. That is, until Dawn spotted their tête-à-tête, went charging over to them and practically ripped Peter away from Cass. She introduced herself as Peter's fiancée, told Cass what a magnificent performance she thought she gave at Monterey, and asked her whether she found it difficult to maintain a steady relationship with one man while she was constantly on the road. Rather than take offense, Cass gave a hearty laugh and ran her hand over Dawn's cheek, responding "Honey, you handled that like a pro. Just don't overplay your hand. Try to be a little more low-key with your delivery. Smoooooth, play it reeeeeeal smoooooth. He's not gonna leave you. He looked like a baby rabbit in the face of a wolf. It was great meeting you, Peter. I hope you'll stick around and come by my house in Laurel Canyon with your girl and your friends. There's a party there most nights. You're all most welcome." She stuck her hand out to Dawn and introduced herself. "I'm Cass, or you can call me Mama Cass or just Mama. Just don't call me late for dinner!" Dawn smiled with relief at her easy sense of humor and friendliness. She introduced herself and thanked her for the open invitation. Cass turned to leave and mingle and called out over her shoulder "Break a leg!"

Crosby spotted Gabby in her usual spot near Micky next to the stage as he was finishing assembling his drum kit. "Scoop! You're a sight for these bleary old eyes! Come to Papa!" Crosby didn't wait for her to approach him. He charged ahead and grabbed her for a hug, lifting her off the ground and swinging her around like a toddler in the park. Given the shortness of her skirt, this embarrassed Gabby and infuriated Micky. He stepped off the stage and insinuated his body between the two of them. He could smell whisky and pot emanating from Crosby.

"Mick the Knife! Hey ol' buddy! I was juss gettin' reacquainted with my girl here."

Micky clenched his teeth and said "You mean _my_ girl, right Cros?"

"Oh, oh yeah, thass right. You're one lucky sonofabitch, Mick. She's the goods. She's got it all goin' on. She's not juss some piece o' ass. She's got a good brain. You take good care o' her now, ya hear? Cuz if ya don't, I'm gonna be waitin' in the wings ready to make my move, ya hear?"

Realizing it did no good arguing with a guy in his state of inebriation, Micky decided to just humor him. He put his hand on Crosby's shoulder and said "Oh absolutely, Cros, I'm gonna treat her like a princess. We just got a recording contract, did you hear? So I think I should be able to take good care of her."

Crosby tried to focus his eyes on Micky to make one Micky instead of the two he was currently seeing and said "A contract? Thasss juuussss great! I'm soooo happy for you!" He pounded Micky on the shoulder with great force and glee until he missed it and almost fell to the floor. By now, Stills had noticed what was going on and came by to help Micky prop up his errant friend.

"Thanks, Micky," Stills said with some embarrassment. "I'll handle it from here. Got anywhere I can deposit him for a little while?"

Micky showed Stills to the dressing room and they guided Crosby to the couch, where he promptly passed out and began to snore. Stills confided in Micky "Sorry about that, dude. Crosby's going through some heavy shit with his band and they're basically going through the divorce proceedings in slow motion. I'm thinking of taking him under my wing. That's why I brought him along even though he's already wasted. Didn't mean to ruin your last gig, though. Glad he's down for the count for a while. He's better off back here."

Micky smiled and said "It's okay, Stephen. I understand. It's very cool of you guys to come out and support Peter and the rest of us. It's hard to believe that the last time we saw you, we were nobodies. Now we're nobodies hopefully about to become somebodies."

Stills laughed at the characterization. "That's a funny way of putting it! I never took time to think much about the process as it was all happening when my band took off. You come off as kind of a joker and jester, but you're doing a lot of deep thinking below the surface. I like that. Pete's a deep thinker, but it's written all over his face. People are apt to take advantage of him because he wears his heart on his sleeve and he comes off as kind of an innocent dummy. Look after him, Micky. You and the other guys. I always worried about him back in the Village. I mean, obviously he's a survivor and he's got some sort of savvy or he'd never have gotten this far, but I think the true secret to his success is he must have a goddamned fairy godmother or guardian angel watching over him. Just don't let him get eaten up by the system. Try to let him stay who he is. Take some of the heavy yourself so he can stay who he is. The world will be better for it, and your life will be, too, in the long run."

Micky mulled this over and nodded his head solemnly. "I get you, Stephen. We're already on it. We've been looking after him for a few years. We know how special he is and we've done all we can to keep him that way. We'll keep on doing it. We won't throw him to the wolves. Just the teenyboppers." Micky rolled his eyes.

"Awww, man, is that the angle they're marketing you with?"

Micky silently nodded his head.

Stills shrugged his shoulders and said "Well, it could end up making you a shitload of money, way more than I'll ever make, and you could end up being bigger than the Beatles. But be careful, Micky. Don't let them steal the music from you. If you let them do that, you'll die. It's one thing to end up on the cover of Tiger Beat. It's another to have to sing someone else's songs because that's what some pencil-necked suit in the Brill Building thinks will sell the most platters. Be careful about that. Stay true to your sound. Like they say, stick with the one who brung you to the dance."

The gig was more like a farewell concert, with the Monkees abandoning their usual set progression and just fielding audience requests. It was a fun, loose, free-for-all atmosphere, and even Mike, who usually strove for perfection and ruled with an iron fist, loosened up and just went with the flow. At the end of the show, the groupies rushed the stage and the guys decided to mingle among them for one last time. Even Micky, tightly holding onto Gabby's hand with her body protectively draped around him, signed autographs and chatted with the girls. The owner of Cornwall's came out of his office to have a word with the guys and wish them well and thank them for making his club a hot spot for six months' worth of weekends. He handed Mike a check that had some extra tacked on as a thank-you bonus, for which Mike thanked him profusely. Gabby's blink-and-you'd-miss-it ex-boyfriend and assistant manager Fred even came out of his office and said goodbye to Gabby and shook Micky's hand. It all felt like the night of high school or college graduation. The Next Big Step in their lives awaited them, and everyone wanted to wish them well and see them succeed.

The Monkees, the girls, and their musical celebrity guests returned to the Pad. The Wallichs brothers declined the invitation but promised to keep an eye on them from afar through Wendy. As per ritual, supplies were gathered on the way home and a feast and revel was prepared. Crosby apparently had come equipped with his own pharmaceutical supplies and had distributed them to Peter, Dawn, Cass, Mike and Wendy. The rest opted to go a more low-key or drug-free route to bliss.

Micky decided that given his abstention from drugs, he was entitled to compensation and indulgence of his senses and asked Gabby to accompany him upstairs so that he could show her how much he loved her instead of just telling her. Given everyone else's preoccupied state, she shrugged her shoulders and said "Why not?"

On their way up the tornado staircase, Crosby spotted their ascent and tried to follow them. Micky stiff-armed him and demanded "Where the hell do you think you're going, Cros?"

Crosby squinted and swayed, then gave a goofy grin. "Hey, I just thought you might need some help entertaining this fiiiiiiiine chick. I told you, she's a whole lot of woman. She's got it all goin' on." He leered sweetly at Gabby and reached out to stroke her cheek, but Micky grabbed his hand and intercepted it before he could lay a hand on her.

"Hey, Cros! Hands off. I told you I'd take care of her. I'm just about to right now. So you just go downstairs and relax and see if you can find someone else's woman to poach. Gabby doesn't do threesomes with other dudes. Ever. Not even with devastatingly charming dudes like you."

Crosby blinked a few times and whimpered an appeal to Gabby "Is this how you want it, Scoop?"

Gabby gave him a sympathetic smile and pat on the shoulder and said "Yeah, Cros, I only do threesomes with other women. Sorry."

Crosby's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. He made an O shape with his lips and shook his head, then his mouth split into a wide grin. "Mmmmmmm, kinky! I get it. Sorry, no offense meant. Mick, I'll say it again, she's a whole lotta woman! You sure are a lucky guy." He turned around and retreated back down the stairs, shaking his head and chuckling.

Micky led Gabby up the stairs, guided her into the bedroom, locked the door and leaned against it, gazing at her seriously. She returned his gaze solemnly. Then simultaneously they both started laughing their asses off and fell into each other's arms.

"Oh, Gabby, that was beautiful. He's right, y'know. You are a whole lotta woman."

She sighed and said, "Well, it was gonna go one of two ways. I was either going to have a flashback of Nick making me have a threesome with that other chick and do a nutty and run screaming from the room and decide to dump you and your whole fuckin' rock 'n roll lifestyle right then and there, or I was going to take a stand and regain agency over my life and use my sense of humor to defuse a situation I probably had control over. I was standing at a crossroads and I took that second path."

Micky suddenly looked seriously perturbed and his amusement vanished. "You mean I almost just lost you right there on the staircase? But I didn't create that situation! I protected you!"

Gabby tried to calm him down and ran her hands over his shoulders. "Shhhh, Micky. Don't look at it like that. It's not about what you did or didn't do. Its about what I can take. How strong am I? It's like how you feel about the groupies and how they freak you out. It's visceral with you, too. It's not something you choose to feel. It's a trigger because of something awful that happened to you in the past. It's like when you smell a fragrance and it reminds you of your mother's cooking. It goes to a part of your brain that's hardwired, that you don't necessarily have control over. I'm going to be constantly challenged by that as you wade into this new environment. I told you I'm game for it all, but I can't control what my subconscious mind tells me. In any case, I think I did a damn good job handling it, don't you?" She was smiling and winding her arms around his neck, trying to get him back into the frame of mind that guided them up to the bedroom in the first place.

Micky grinned like a proud Papa and said "Damn girl, you handled yourself like the sassy, smart, hot ticket I know you are. I'd say you handled yourself like a pro, but that might make you sound like a prostitute or groupie and that would miss the mark." They both laughed at Micky's charming unartful banter.

Gabby gave him her best come hither look and asked "Now what did you have in mind before we were so jarringly interrupted, my Micky? You were setting a scene in your mind. Tell me about it and you can play director."

Micky sank his face into her neck and growled low like a lion in search of its next meal. "I was thinking as we were climbing the stairs that you were my princess and I was carrying you off to the top of my castle. But you totally aren't princess material, as you proved so well with Crosby. You're a kick ass hot mama. So maybe you ought to be carrying me off to the castle to do your will and have your way with me. You're the Queen and I'm the lowly stable boy whom you've lured up to your chamber and you're going to have your way with me."

Gabby's eyes glowed with possibility and anticipation. She immediately snapped into character. "You're not the stable boy. You're the second son of the Duke whom I really want to marry. But the elders are trying to marry me off to your older brother, the first born son who's going to inherit the title and all the loot. So you and I meet up and tryst whenever we can. Come here, my lord, and rip my bodice. That's what they call romance stories in the book business — bodice rippers."

Micky took his hand and pulled the neckline of her low-cut dress and bra down all at once, grabbing her and pulling her towards him, and burying his face in her chest. He began to bestow a series of kisses all over the surface, randomly and roughly, suctioning the skin and nibbling with his teeth to inflict ever so slight amount of pressure, though not pain.

"Tell me how much you want me, my lord," Gabby panted, "how bereft you are that you can't marry me, how unfair it is, how you will defy society to marry me, or kill your brother to make me your own."

Micky shook his head. "Defy, yes. Kill, no. Not for a chick, not for a nation." He made a peace sign with his fingers.

Gabby smiled. "I like that your fantasy life is as ethical as your real one. Damn I love you. Okay, make with the defiance." She threaded her hands through his curls and waited for his next move.

Micky grazed Gabby's lips lightly without kissing them. She thought he was going to be the supplicant, but he was going to have her begging for his attentions, he thought mischievously to himself. "My Queen, I've been banished from the kingdom for presuming to love you and make you my own. We have but this one last night to be together and say our farewells."

Gabby clutched Micky to her breast and exclaimed "I won't give you up, my lord. I love you and I will have you. One day, I will claim you, but for now it's safer for you to flee until I kick the asses of my ministers and advisors and your mouth-breathing, knuckle-dragging brother. So we'll have this night together, but I promise you, it won't be our last."

"I'm yours, my Queen. What is your will?"

"Disrobe yourself, slowly."

"But my Queen, how can I do that without first making you comfortable and removing your garments?"

Gabby blinked blankly, not realizing Micky was turning the tables on her. "Oh, okay. Of course, you should serve your queen first. Undress me."

"Yes my Queen. Immediately, your will shall be done." Then Micky proceeded to do _his_ will, peeling Gabby's tight club outfit off of her. She stood in her bra and panties, breathing slightly faster, waiting to see what Micky would do next. He slipped his forefinger into the waistband of her panties and slid it down the front, dipping it into her slit, sampling the temperature and moisture down there to see how worked up she was so far. 'Definitely not heated up enough yet,' was his silent assessment. He determined to slow down the pace even more.

He ran his finger around the whole waistband of her panties, swirling it around and around, teasing her as he dipped it down a few inches and then raised it again. He came to the front and brushed her pubic bone and she took a sharp intake of breath, then he retreated again. Then to the back, with one finger again, down her butt crack and under each butt cheek, and up to and around each hip bone. Finally, just as Gabby was about to express her frustration in queenly fashion, he ripped her panties down and she stepped out of them, dumbly holding on to him for balance.

He made a similar circuit of her bra and breasts, taking an exquisitely and agonizingly long time to finally get down to business, and when he did, he was equally abrupt and almost brutal in his discarding of her remaining scrap of clothing. It took her breath away, and she mewled a little with pleasure mixed with frustration and relief.

"Touch me, squeeze me, please me, my lord," Gabby commanded.

"But what if my touch leaves a mark and my brother should notice, my Queen?" Micky was enjoying dragging it out and tormenting Gabby under the guise of being a timid lover in the hands of a brutal, demanding queen.

"That's not likely to happen, is it, my lord?"

Micky gave her a smoldering look and said "You haven't made love with me before, my Queen. I play for keeps and I leave my mark."

Gabby had her ants in my pants look on her face and said "I'll risk the consequences, my lord. Do your worst."

Micky made to raise another objection. "But what if ..."

Gabby exploded "Goddamit, my lord, who's in charge here? I'm your Queen and I'm telling you to fuck me now. You will fuck me like I've never been fucked before, or I'll have you quartered in the tall tower for the rest of your life and I'll marry your brother for politics and fuck you for love and fun for the rest of your natural life!"

Micky finally broke. He started to laugh, then guffaw, then wheeze and grip his sides. Gabby slowly realized he had purposely provoked this reaction and she started pummeling him with slaps and pokes in the ribs, chiding him for his antics.

"Micky, you're lucky I don't take my clothes and leave right now! Now if I were you, I'd think very carefully about your next move."

Micky made an exaggerated expression of contrition and took her breasts in both hands, consuming them with his mouth and fingers thoroughly as Gabby finally sighed with satisfaction. "More, everything, faster, harder," Gabby commanded incoherently, in less than queenly fashion. Once again, she was handing the upper hand back to Micky and he took it, but this time with no teasing, mischievous intent. He was now in a frenzy of hunger, want and passion. He really did want to please his queen, and his own hunger would only be satiated when he heard the siren song of her climax. Whenever she reached for him, he brushed her hands away and and focused utterly on giving her pleasure. He allowed her only one indulgence, which was to slick up his penis with her mouth in anticipation of her mounting him and increasing her own pleasure.

He laid down on his back and pulled her forcefully atop himself, suspending her above him before he impaled her and she groaned with satisfaction. As he lowered her down, he watched with his usual fascination as he disappeared inside her warm inner channel. He held her still a moment and contemplated her whole being — her surface beauty and her ethereal spiritual loveliness.

As they locked eyes at this critical moment, Micky spoke as both the imaginary lord and as himself. "I love you, my Queen Gabriella, and I'll do all I can do to make you happy. It's my life's mission, my honor, and my utmost pleasure." Gabby leaned forward and kissed him with as much love, affection, sincerity, loyalty and reciprocity as she could pack into a kiss.

"Wow," was all Micky could say. Gabby silently nodded her head. They were back to communicating wordlessly. Then they began to move in tandem. Micky shifted Gabby's body level with his, and her hips and his began to ripple and grind. He nudged her up on her straight arms so that he could caress and mouth her breasts as they moved. This made everything happening south of her belly clench even tighter and feel more sensitive, and she started to lose control of her muscles. Micky took over and steered her with his lower body and arms and hands to a shattering climax as she shrieked "my lord, my lord, so good, you make me feel...ohhh..." She sank down into Micky's body to mold hers to his and he could feel her heart pounding. He gently stroked her back until her breath evened out, then kissed her forehead.

"Did I please Her Majesty?"

"Far beyond measure, my lord. You may think that I have all the power in the world, all the choices in the world, that I'm playing with your emotions by making you wait to be with me. Please believe me that it will be worth it. I will make sacrifices for you, and I will make sure that we will be happy together by doing this the right way. Please trust my judgment and have patience. We will be together someday."

Micky nudged Gabby's head so he could look her in the eyes. He realized she wasn't the Queen who was speaking to her lord. She was Gabby, talking to her Micky about their uncertain but hopeful future. Nevertheless, he stayed in character.

"We may be of different social statuses and come from different worlds, Your Majesty, but our love will bridge the gaps. I trust your word and your instincts, my Queen, I know you value my happiness as much as your own, maybe even more than your own. I'll be yours for all my days."

Gabby pursed her lips uncertainly and said "Unless things need to change and then you must promise to dump my ass, my lord, and move on. Just remember to do it in that order."

Micky laughed and could no longer maintain the role playing. "Gabby, I wish you were more romantic and less pragmatic. Can we just leave that as a silent caveat from now on? You don't have to say it anymore. It will go in the category of things we'd say 'Of course it goes without saying...'"

"I'm sorry, Micky, but I can't help it. I've been through the wringer with love and I'm always looking for the little box that says 'In Case Of Emergency Break Glass.' It's just another of those built-in reactions. But I promise to try to stop saying it. It does kill the mood, I admit it. Now where were we?"

Micky ran his hands down Gabby's smooth, naked backside and pulled her against him, calling her attention to his pressing need.

"Oh, yes, that's where we were. I'm still Queen and in charge, right?"

"Yes, your Majesty. What is your will?"

"I want you to bend me over that bed and slip it to me from behind nice and smooth. You can pretend I've got a dozen layers of petticoats on and you have to hunt around for your target."

Micky's eyes grew hungry with desire. He eased Gabby up and she scrambled off of him so he could stand up. He took her by the shoulders and led her over to the end of the bed. Kissing the back of her neck and ear, he laid her on her belly on the bed and smoothed his hands up her back and down again, over her butt cheeks and down the backs of her thighs, which raised goosebumps everywhere on her, he observed. He arranged her arms out to her sides in the shape of a T, her back muscles defined and straining and her flattened breasts protruding out to the sides. He caressed her breasts gently, lovingly, hungrily.

Quietly, gently, but firmly, he entered her and held still for a moment, allowing her to acclimate to his presence. She nodded her head and said "Take me, my lord." That's all Micky needed to hear. He held on to her hips and backside, gliding in and out of her. He could hear his flesh slapping her, and she could feel his balls tickling her entry with every thrust. She loved the different sensation from his incursion from behind, and he loved the feeling of control it gave him and imagined that this must be akin to how Gabby felt when she was riding him atop his belly. It was empowering and extremely stimulating. He cried out his own climax in character and pledged his love to his beloved Queen to his dying day. Remaining inside of her, he draped his body over Gabby and warmed her back with his body, kissing her shoulders, neck and ears, and returning to her breasts and stroking their sides.

"This is way better than getting high, Gabby. It's my natural high. I don't feel like I'm missing a thing, in case you're wondering."

"I wasn't but I'm glad to know it, Micky. I appreciate your making that decision for yourself and in deference to me. I'll be glad to keep you supplied with hot sex in exchange for keeping you away from illegal drugs. You know what Ronald Coleman says in _A Tale of Two Cities_ , right?"

Micky did one of his famous impressions: "It is a far, far better thing I do than I have ever done before."

"Right. So glad to have snagged myself a movie buff for a boyfriend/life partner/lover."

Micky agreed. "Me too. I think if the music biz doesn't work out for me, I'll go back to acting. Maybe even directing."

Gabby laughed "I think you're already directing. You certainly do a great job scripting scenarios for our sex life. It's a blast. It's not mandatory for every time we have sex, but I do find it to be a hoot. It keeps things on the boil."

"Mmmm, I agree. You're the only woman I've ever met who sees things in pictures and stories like I do. You've got a creative mind. Think that will translate into a career for you?"

Gabby mulled it over. "I don't know. I really didn't set out to be a writer, but I am definitely a communicator. I have something to say and want to spread the word and convince people to see what I see and act on a set of principles. I may continue to write, or I may shift to more direct activism, or maybe even run for public office."

Micky withdrew from Gabby and laid them both on the bed so he could cradle her in his arms protectively. "You didn't get spooked by getting the shit kicked out of you at the anti-war protest when President Johnson was in town? That didn't turn you off of direct action?"

Gabby scoffed and shook her head. "No way, Micky. It just fired me up even more. After the ACLU released its report on how the police basically incited a riot on purpose, really created the conditions for what happened, ambushed the protestors and took sadistic delight in beating defenseless, middle-class, first-time, peaceful protestors, many of whom were women, children, disabled people, and elderly people? Shit, it just made me realize that more action is needed, more bravery is needed. After my lawsuit is finished, either through a jury verdict or settlement, I'd like to volunteer for the ACLU, or maybe they'll even give me a paid job that a non-lawyer could do."

Micky looked at her with admiration and disbelief. "Gabby, I need to learn how to be more like you. We both know what's coming down the pike. As soon as our record hits the stores, the Monkees are going to go on the road for a tour to support the album. And I know you can't be there with me for every show. I'm sure the security will be tighter, and it won't be like playing in an intimate nightclub with a groupie pit right next to the stage, but the groupies will still be there. I know I managed to get along without you while you were in the hospital and while you were healing up from your injuries, but it was just by the skin of my teeth, and Davy had to shift his position on the stage to compensate for your absence. I can't hide behind your skirts or Davy's trousers anymore. I've got to move past what happened and get ready for this tour. What should I do? What can I do?"

Gabby stroked Micky's head and cheeks and said what he probably didn't want to hear, but what he needed to hear. "Micky, I'm proud of you for realizing you need to get past this hangup and I'm glad you feel ready. I'm going to give you the same advice you gave me. Go see a shrink. You can even go see my shrink. She's helped me a lot. She might not agree to see you, though, since it might be a conflict because we're a couple, but I could get her to find someone for you. You've got some time before you go out on the road. I think now's the time to work this out. What do you think?"

Micky sighed and nodded. "Yeah, let's do it. I've got nothing to lose. Certainly not my pride, because it's utterly humiliating and demoralizing to be this wreck of a man I am right now. And yes, I know, I'm entitled to feel this way and I didn't bring it on myself, but that doesn't make those feelings of shame go away."

"I understand that, Micky. Of all people, I truly do. How about if you come to my appointment this week and talk to my shrink and then we'll go from there. I wouldn't mind having her meet you in any case."

"Why, do you talk about me?"

Gabby rolled her eyes. "Not that it's any of your business, but yes, of course I do. You're a major part of my life! You should consider that a good thing."

Micky paused a moment to consider his feelings about this and then decided to see it as a positive and kissed Gabby on the cheek and said "Thanks! That's groovy. I guess it's an honor. I'm pretty positive no other girl has ever cared enough about me to go see a shrink about me."

Gabby laughed and said "You're such a goof, Micky. The way you see the world is certainly uniquely positive. Just one of the many reasons why I find you irresistible."

"Well that's handy, because I don't have to work at being that way."

"Yep. You just continue being you, don't let all this new stuff change you if you can avoid it, and I'll keep talking to my shrink about you. True love!"

They giggled about what constituted modern love and sealed it with several kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	9. Chapter 9

The compromising started from the get-go, and Mike came out of the womb complaining about it. The Powers That Be (TPTB) hired a songwriting team to pen the B-side of _Clarksville_ , with a song by Carol King and Gerry Goffin, a pair of writers who worked out of New York's famous Brill Building, a virtual factory for pop music hits.

Their song, _Take A Giant Step_ , was about a girl who was trying to recover from a devastating relationship gone south. Mike called it pre-chewed and pre-digested crap for the masses. Micky fought for the song to be included, however, finding deep meaning in the lyrics, which seemed to be the story of Gabby's crushing breakup with Nick and a story he knew well. Not only that, but he argued that the odd melody and instrumental section, plus the lyric advising the girl to "step outside your mind" were an excellent fit for the psychedelic sound they were going for. Mike wasn't used to being challenged on matters of music, particularly not from Micky, who mostly took a passive role in the past given his supposed limited musical skills (never mind that he played multiple instruments just like the other guys).

After the two rams battered horns for a while, they decided to shut up and let Davy and Peter weigh in. Davy didn't really give a damn. He was an entertainment pro and was just interested in getting on with the job and becoming a success. He felt that TBTB obviously knew more about what sells than Mike did and was willing to trust their instincts. Peter was all for asserting independence, but to him the lyrics mattered less than the music, and he too felt that the music in this song was solid. He also felt that they needed to be strategic in picking their battles, and that the B-side of their first single, when they were being given the A-side, was not the time to flex their independence.

Mike called Peter a hippie peacenik, Davy a nine-to-five man, and Micky a pretender for thinking he had a tenth of the musical vision that Mike had, and left the studio in a huff. The guys knew better than to try to peel him off the ceiling right now. Instead, they called it a day and phoned Wendy to warn her that she was on triage duty stat. She said she'd get on the case as soon as she could get away from the record store.

Luckily, Mike was like a homing pigeon and was on his way towards the bomb defuser. He called her to tell her he would meet her at her place. She hurried home after her shift with Italian takeout and a bottle of red wine, after calling Dawn and Gabby to warn them to find somewhere else to sleep that night. When she entered her apartment, Mike was sprawled out on the sofa with his ungodly sexy long legs propped up on the coffee table, changing the TV channels with the remote control like it was a gun he was shooting. Wendy took a deep breath and steeled herself for the task ahead.

Mike didn't bother turning around when she came in, and only grunted in response to her greeting. She crept up behind him and kissed his neck where that absolutely edible mole sat just waiting to be consumed. She felt him stiffen but try not to react. She moved up to his earlobe and gave it a nibble and he flinched a little. As she planted a row of kisses down his jawline, she stroked his sideburn and he finally broke, shivering with pleasure and groaning with desire.

He put his arms behind him around Wendy and said "Come here, lil' girl. I need me some more of that sweet petite sugar. It's been a day like runnin' a dunce academy."

"I know," she said, as she sank down onto his lap and wound her legs around his hips, continuing to to stroke his sideburns. "Micky called me and told me what went down."

Mike pulled his head back and eyed her warily. "Oh? And what's all this then?" He gestured at the food, wine and her body wrapped around his. "You here to talk me off the ledge and tell me I'm wrong?"

Wendy gave him one of her "Don't mess with me, Mister" looks and said "Well, you're half right for sure. I definitely want to get you back down to solid ground and feeling good again." She slid her hand down his thigh and back up again until she was just millimeters from his package. "But I have no idea who's right or wrong, and I don't really care. I just want you to get human again and stay that way. You can't be blowing up at the guys and flouncing out like a diva when you don't get your way, Michael. It's not professional and it's not fair. You've got to let this thing play out a bit before you act like you know it all. If you could produce your own record today, someone would have given you a sack of money and set you loose in a studio and said have at it. But they didn't. You signed a contract, one which according to Clyde has a lot more creative control than most bands in your situation. So you have to get to the acceptance point of this part of your life story and make the best of what you've got. And you've got to work as a team with the guys. No more of this ruling with an iron fist shit. Of course they respect your opinion and will defer to you on many things. But they have their whole lives invested in this project and want it to be a collective effort. It's the Monkees, not the Monkee. So tell me what you think of what I just said, and try not to leave a mark on me when you say it."

Mike looked alarmed at the thought that Wendy might be implying that he might hit her, so she added "Metaphorically speaking."

He sighed and nodded, then paused to gather his thoughts. "Wendy, honey, of course what you're sayin' makes sense to you. But it doesn't make sense to me because the way we got where we are is me bein' me. I wrote most of the songs, I ran the group, I made all or most of our luck and opportunities for gigs and kept the roof over our heads, and the guys always looked to me as the leader not just in matters of the band but in our lives. I can't tell you how many times I had to bail these knuckleheads outta trouble. It's like in science, that concept of centrifugal force. You take a bucket and fill it full of water and you can swing that bucket around as much as you want, but the water won't fall out because there's centrifugal force holdin' it in. I'm that force. And now I'm bein' told to step aside and let these other guys have their three-quarters of the say in things and I just see that as goin' against the laws of nature. I see trouble ahead if we do it that way. I see chaos. I need order, I need consistency..."

"You need control," Wendy interrupted. "Let's face it, Mike, you're a control freak and we both know it. You know how _I_ know it? Because you and I are cut from the same cloth. You remember what happened when I tried to impose my will on you when I took that roadie gig without taking your feelings or wishes into account? It crushed your spirit and you broke up with me. So you've been on the receiving end of it as well. Now think about how that feels and tell me that that's how you want the other fellas to go through their musical careers with you. Always being disregarded and disrespected, valued only for the convenience and incidental pleasure and value they bring to your life. Not your true partners, but just people there to serve your end goals. Micky told Gabby that when I pulled that shit on you, you felt like you had been used, disregarded, not valued, just a piece of ass. Is that how you want the guys to feel?"

Mike looked down at his hands and muttered "No."

Wendy lifted his face up to meet her eyes and said "Then treat them like life partners. Just like you asked me to do. There's absolutely no difference in the terms of engagement, other than that with them, you'll get a hit record, and with me, you'll get a lifetime's supply of love, support, and hot sex. What do you say?"

Mike grinned and ran his hand through Wendy's wild ebony hair. "I think maybe I taught you too good and now you're makin' me walk mah talk. Okay, I'll try to adjust mah thinkin'. So what do I do now?"

Wendy snuggled herself back up to Mike and let her hand travel all the way up to its licentious destination and said "First we eat and drink, then we see if the coast is clear and I give you some sexual hydrotherapy in the pool, otherwise I show you the new groovy lava lamp I bought at Dawn's head shop for my bedroom. Then tomorrow, you go into the studio with the guys and you apologize and make it clear that you're all in this thing together and no one's opinion counts more than anyone else's. It's a group project and everything will be put to a vote. If a tiebreaker is needed, I will cast the deciding vote."

Mike yelped "Why you?"

"Because I am now the band manager and you need someone with objectivity and experience with the music business, plus the ear of a Capitol Records executive, that's why. Instead of tearing each other apart, I suggest you try to finagle a salary for me so that I can quit my job at the store and be in the studio with you guys. It could save time between arguments. They're not going to wait forever for you to make this record and your diva flounce just took up half a day."

"You want to be on salary working for us?"

Wendy shrugged her shoulders. "And this comes as a surprise to you why?"

"Well, I just don't know about that. I mean, it's always been just us guys."

Wendy gave him a look that bored a hole in his soul. "Yeah, and how's that working out for ya? You think you'd have done as well at the Monterey Pop Festival without me? You think maybe you couldn't use someone to take what you're thinking and translate it into a more palatable message to the suits at the label? You think that it wouldn't be helpful to have someone in the studio who knows all four of you and understands the personalities, talents and skills involved and be able to assess who's got more credibility to opine on any given issue? You think it wouldn't be handy to be able to have a quickie during a break when your tension is at an all-time high? Yeah, putting me on salary is probably a terrible idea." She rolled her eyes, snorted and started to climb off of Mike's lap, but he caught her by the wrist and pulled her back down.

"I'll get right on it tomorrow. Now come 'ere, you vixen. You've got me right in the palm of your hand. You know it, too, don'tcha?"

Wendy gave him a half smile and said "Yup."

He pulled her into a kiss that left no doubt that he was happy to place himself in her hands under the right circumstances.

A week later, Wendy gave notice at Wallichs and was feted with a farewell party attended by both Wallichs brothers, Clyde who was Wendy's boss and managed the store, and his brother Glenn who made the trip over from Capitol Records. They presented her with a cake in the shape of a record with The Monkees written in icing and told her that she should feel free to stay in touch and call upon their expertise. They said they were particularly proud to have one of their own employees, and a woman at that, moving up into the big leagues. Clyde hugged Wendy goodbye and said "Do us proud and kick some ass for all the women working here who want to do what you're doing." Wendy thanked them for everything and departed with a couple of slices of cake for her roommates.

With Wendy on board, things went much more smoothly. In fact, as Micky and Gabby would say in Trekkie speak, they were operating at Warp speed. The album was recorded in a total of twenty days. Mike even agreed to collaborate on one of the songs with King and Goffin, an intense tune called _Sweet Young Thing_ , which he was allowed to produce on his own with no interference from TPTB. The album opened up with a ditty that Bobby Hart and Tommy Boyce wrote, a theme song introducing the Monkees to their new audience. The guys thought it was hokey, but it was an effective way of fixing their identity since they were an unknown band on the larger landscape beyond Los Angeles. There was a boppy song, a soppy ballad, and a schmalzy tune for Davy to emote to, and Mike got another of his original compositions on the first side of the album, which again he was allowed to produce on his own. The rest of the songs featured Micky on lead, with his versatile, pitch perfect voice that could sound poignant, hopeful, hyped up for a party or absolutely madcap, as depicted in the last song which he comically sang with Davy (another song forced upon them by TPTB to highlight their naturally comic, winning personalities which Mike felt undermined their credibility as Serious Musicians). Peter, who TPTB declared had a weak singing voice, had no solos on the album. If this hurt him or affected him negatively in any way, he didn't let it show. His only comment was a shrug of the shoulders and a short statement: "The music is all." The other guys made up for his apathy by taking umbrage on his behalf. Dawn wanted to know whose testicles needed to be castrated for making such a boneheaded, hurtful decision.

 _Clarksville_ was released a couple of months ahead of the full album. The first time one of them heard it on the radio was when Davy and Micky were driving in the Monkeemobile. They were so excited, they pulled over and hopped out of the car and hugged each other. The tune entered the Billboard Top 100 surprisingly quickly, and the guys quietly took note and crossed their fingers. Meanwhile, they were busy with intense rehearsals for their upcoming tour to promote the album. The label had only committed thus far to a short tour of California venues, subject to change based on album sales and the success of _Clarksville_.

Wendy let Mike off the leash more when it came to rehearsing for the tour. His perfectionism and work ethic worked to the band's advantage, even if it exhausted them and was annoying as hell. She put Micky and Davy in charge of working up shtick and banter for the guys to use to toss between each other to transition from song to song. It made the show unique and more like a performance than just a concert. Peter and Micky were in charge of visuals, and came up with the groundbreaking idea of showing video images on a screen behind the guys. Micky took photographs and filmed special short pieces of the guys, scenes around Los Angeles and other footage he had collected while they were recording the album. Peter concocted psychedelic images, flowers and peace symbols to project on the screen. The guys also decided to incorporate the session musicians into the show to their advantage, allowing each of them to do a star turn and perform a solo number highlighting their preferred musical style, another way of allowing the audience to get to know who they were and appreciate the diversity of their repertoire.

Weeks went by, and _Clarksville_ crept up the chart. Then the full album was released. This time, the Monkees family felt a party was warranted, and again they fled down the coast to celebrate in obscurity at their homey favorite Mexican restaurant Casa Pulido, after a day at RAT Beach. Micky splurged and bought a surfboard locally and sweet-talked Mama Pulido into storing his board in the broom closet at the restaurant for him, promising her they'd be coming back often now that they needed a place to eat in obscurity. They gave her an autographed copy of their new album _The Monkees_.

Finally the day came when _Clarksville_ hit number 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart, just short of a month after the release of the album. It was an astoundingly fast climb — a mere nine weeks from debut to the top spot. A week later, the album hit number 1 on the Billboard Hot 200, just over a month after its release. Their album had vaulted over their friend Mama Cass's album _The Mamas & The Papas _which sat at the number 4 spot, the Beatles' _Revolver_ , and the Rolling Stones' _Aftermath_. There were bands like the Byrds and the Animals who had played at the Monterey Pop Festival whose albums were charting lower. It was a truly staggering achievement and the guys and the record label were astounded and overjoyed. Plans for releasing a new single were underway.

The label immediately booked additional venues nationwide for the tour, which now morphed from three weeks to nine weeks. The guys had been doing sporadic media hits on radio stations and magazines where they could get them, but now that they were a bona fide hit, the press was coming to them. They also were now going to be accompanied on tour by a reporter from _Tiger Beat_ _Magazine_ , which was being given certain exclusive access to the Monkees behind the scenes in exchange for weekly wall-to-wall coverage of their every move, publicity that was worth an incalculable amount.

Of course, the guys got a repeat of "the talk" about the facts of life of needing to appear to be single, available and fuckable, which meant the girls would not be allowed to accompany them on the tour, with the exception of Wendy, who now held a different status as an employee and manager of the band. Fortunately, there was no griping or ill will directed at her or Mike for this inequity, and they agreed to keep things on the down low in deference not only to the band's image but in consideration to the other guys, who would be missing their gals. Micky did make an unequivocal statement of independence to TPTB, however, on the advice of his therapist, that he would not be pimped out to any groupie or do anything he didn't feel comfortable or safe with doing. The guys had been pre-warned that this was coming and they backed him up, merely referring vaguely to some heavy shit that had gone down at a gig with a groupie that had scarred Micky for life and it was in everybody's best interests to defer to his wishes on this point.

On the eve of the California leg of the tour, the guys had a bonfire party on the beach at the Pad and invited everyone they knew. It ended up being a rager and probably not the smartest move considering they had to leave early the next morning, but they didn't care. They knew no one would be able to sleep a wink that night anyway from anticipation and nerves, so they kept the bonfire stoked into the early morning hours and reveled until almost dawn. Most of them opted to sleep on the beach, including Micky and Gabby. They had done that once before, though it had been a much more intimate affair. On that prior occasion, they had made love and talked of their future and woke up the next morning and fooled around some more. On this night, they took care of that earlier in the privacy of Micky's bedroom and saved the beach and the stars for just a slumber party with the rest of their friends.

They had gone up to his room to have one last shag before their long separation. It wouldn't be the longest period of their lives together without sex — that had been the two months after Gabby's hospitalization for her injuries suffered during the riot, following their epic argument about her refusing to allow Micky to accompany her to protect her. So in their mind, this separation of bodies was less important than the fact that they wouldn't be able to see each other or even necessarily speak to each other daily. The severance of their emotional and spiritual connection was very much more painful. So this was basically just going to be scratching that itch one last time before they parted. Each got to pick their favorite thing, or in Micky's case, since he didn't have a favorite thing because he was insatiable and endlessly inventive, he just picked what sounded good to him at the moment. So Gabby finally got to be Wonder Woman with Micky playing Superman teaching her how to fly, giving her a massive orgasm as he lifted her up atop his belly by thrusting his pelvis and raising his hips. And Micky fucked Gabby's tits and for once she let him come all over her, just to be nice because he was going away for so long, but then she made him carry her into the shower "to clean up his gross pearl necklace," where they had sex again, with her wrapped around him like a creeper vine.

The guys had negotiated a weekend furlough after the California leg of the tour was over, so they were back after three weeks. This time, the road trip to obtain privacy led them back to another familiar stomping ground, to The Village Inn in Carmel. Since they were making more money now, each couple could afford to book their own room and this in and of itself made everyone feel like they were on top of the world. The trip was relaxing, enjoyable and free from the stress and squabbling that had dominated the birthing process of the album. The guys had bonded during the tour, having undergone a transformation and maturation playing to hundreds and even thousands of fans at a couple of venues instead of the usual couple hundred a nightclub held. The girls also had bonded even closer, being something akin to military wives, waiting for their men to come home from their tour of duty. By now, Jan was fully integrated into the family and had brought her own brand of sass and fun to the mix. She had hosted a slumber party at her place one night and the gals had had a surprisingly fun time playing with her doll collection and getting their hair braided by Jan. Gabby looked on with jealousy since her hair was too short to be braided, so Jan gave her a manicure instead, which touched off a new fetish and now Gabby insisted on having her nails painted weekly, much to Micky's titillation as he pictured those red nails wrapped around a certain part of his anatomy.

They poked around the quaint town's shops, strolled along the beach, and could even afford to eat in some of the little cafes. Gabby and Micky introduced everyone to the French bistro where they had eaten on their first trip there, when Micky insisted on taking her someplace classy despite her protestations that he didn't have to spend so much money on her. They all paused a moment to mull and discuss the guys' changing financial circumstances. Things were better, but it could all disappear in a flash. They weren't getting a cut of the concert sales, Wendy pointed out, which was a big inequity in their contract that should be addressed if the label wanted to re-up them. They hadn't yet seen their first royalty check on the album sales, and they had no idea what that would look like, so they were trying to be prudent and not go mad with their money that they did have. They also noticed that deals were quietly being made to market items such as t-shirts and lunch boxes and all manner of tchotchkes with the Monkees logo and their likenesses on them, which they also weren't getting a piece of. This, too, would have to be addressed. They decided that they should probably hire an attorney or an agent. Wendy said she'd consult the Wallichs brothers for advice. But enough with business talk! This was a getaway. A stroll down to the beach was next on the agenda.

They all walked hand in hand or with an arm around their partner. Micky gave a soft chuckle and Gabby inquired "What? What's got you amused, my Micky?"

"It's just funny that here we all are as a group, retracing the steps you and I took during that magical weekend when we declared our love for each other and became lovers. That was such a private experience, but I'm really happy to be here with everyone and I hope this place is having the same effect on them that it had on us. Still, it's such a déjà vu feeling. I almost expected to see the man with the pugs after dinner!"

Gabby giggled. "That would have been too much! Definitely the makings of a Twilight Zone episode there."

The weekend zipped by and on Monday morning the guys took off for the Midwest for their tour of big and moderate-sized cities in each major region of the country. Mike was particularly looking forward to debuting his country-influenced tunes in Nashville, and had plans to check out the music recording scene there. Peter had convinced the label to book them into a smaller venue near the epicenter of the folkie scene in the Village, promising that Peter's and Stephen Stills' past connections, word of mouth and some of Gabby's underground newspaper connections would fill the venue and give the band a cachet that would broaden its appeal at a time when Dylan and Simon & Garfunkel were cornering the very lucrative market on that brand of music. Davy also was excited about visiting New York City and hoped to have time to visit the Great White Way to see a Broadway show.

The downside to this part of the tour was the constant setups and promotions the label had arranged for them. There were always contest winners to greet, usually hordes of screaming, fainting young girls waiting to shake hands (or sneak a kiss or even cop a feel) with their favorite Monkee. Wendy did her best to keep the girls in line and to emphasize the rules of decorum as a matter of feminist pride, but that didn't cut much ice with these hungry teenyboppers. Fortunately, more often than not the girls were accompanied by parents or guardians, so they weren't able to get into much mischief. But the guys collectively agreed that it was a _very_ good thing that their girls weren't along for the tour to witness the spectacle of the objectification of their menfolk. It would have provoked a revolution or a riot for sure.

Soon, if the girls wanted to know what was up with their guys, they could buy the teenybopper magazines in the grocery stores to read a facsimile of the truth. Or they could read the gossip columns syndicated in the _Los Angeles Times_ , and other local newspapers. There were also the radio stations devoted to all things Monkees, particularly the most popular L.A. music radio station, KHJ, which breathlessly covered their tour, having sent a correspondent along with them to send back daily reports. Of course, in the evenings, one or all of them would receive phone calls from the guys and Wendy and get the real scoop on what was happening and a telephone tree would then take place to fill everyone else in so that no one put too much stock into what they were reading, seeing or hearing in the press. Poor Jan had it the worst, as the press had decided that Davy was the group's heartthrob and was constantly pairing him up with any girl who stood next to him. Fortunately, she knew the true state of Davy's mind and soul and was convinced that he was over his days of carousing and cat prowling.

In every city, it was the same drill. Arrive, hit up the most popular radio station, which was usually the major sponsor of the concert, take over the station and spin a few platters and cause a little Monkees havoc. Often, they would combine this with inviting a girl or girls who had won some sort of "Why I love the Monkees" contest and they'd interview her and her friends. This would usually cause a massive stampede of other girls to head over to the radio station in search of autographs or at least a Monkee sighting.

The controlled promotions were okay, but these spontaneous gatherings, whether they were ambushes at radio stations or at hotels where the guys were staying or at the airports where they landed were chaotic and downright scary. At their first airport landing, there was an unexpectedly large group of kids and their guardians, and the airport security staff did not have its act together. The kids broke through the flimsy fenced off cordon and bodily attacked the first Monkee they saw, which was little Davy. He had to shake them off like ants at a picnic, or more like leeches in a swamp, as Mike grimly observed. Fortunately, the other guys were able to catch up to him and sweep him into their waiting car, with only the loss of Davy's hat as a casualty (though he grumbled mightily about this sartorial snatchery). After that, airports were warned to quadruple whatever security they thought was adequate, and then the Monkees felt safe enough to be able to walk the chain link fences, barriers and cordons and offer a few autographs.

The next routine fixture of every stop on the tour was for at least one of the fellas to go on some sort off "date" with a contest winner or to allow her and her chaperone into a more intimate setting, like a hospitality suite or hotel restaurant for a one-one-one visit, with a record label suit or sometimes Wendy present. The guys were expected to act like it really was a date and to kiss the girl on the cheek when it was over. 

They needed to make her feel special and wanted, though not to lead her on too far. The final person accompanying them on the "date" would be the _Tiger Beat_ reporter, who would breathlessly report on the best, most interesting dates for future issues of the magazines. On one occasion, Dawn read about a date in which Peter seemed to have gotten terribly friendly with one of the girls he escorted, having kissed her more than the requisite one kiss at the end, and flirted up a storm. She gave Peter an earful after having read about that rendezvous while waiting in the grocery line, and Peter tried to calm her down. She had bought the issue and read it to him word for word and she chewed him out. By the end, he was sighing with relief and reassuring her it was all fiction.

"Dawn, that story is full of holes! First of all, they have me taking her out for a steak dinner, which it says we ate heartily. You know darn well I'm a vegetarian! Second of all, they have that chick going out on a double date with me and Davy on the same night, eating two separate dinners, seeing two different bands at two different night clubs, and she kisses both of us several times! It just doesn't work that way! It's all make believe, most of them bring their mom with them, we're always chaperoned by someone, and I give them one quick kiss on the cheek and I imagine it's my sister while I'm doing it. If you want, I'll imagine it's my ugly Auntie Grizelda. That reporter obviously was trying to give her editor something over the top and wanted to really sock it to them. Just stop reading that shit. Go to the grocery and bring a book with you for while you're waiting in line, sunshine girl." Mollified and convinced Peter was telling the truth, Dawn stood down and agreed not to read any more tabloids for the sake of their relationship and, as Peter always reminded her, their unborn babies, his favorite and most effective emotional pressure point.

Micky found himself adjusting to the lack of Gabby's presence near the stage and thanked the God of Music that he had gotten a few therapy sessions under his belt before he hit the road. He kept a photo of Gabby in a tiny frame attached to his drum kit, and he invested it with as much of her calming spirit as he could. Before they hit the road, he had her sleep with it under her pillow and kiss it many times, leaving her lipstick print on the back one final time. So whether he looked at the back or front, he had tangible proof of her presence on the stage. It was like a worry stone he could run his hand over if he got nervous. But the fact was that the nature of their shows had changed so drastically that he almost had no need to fret about getting mauled during a show.

For starters, the stage was a lot higher above the crowd, and there were now paid security to keep the girls from rushing the stage, which did happen occasionally. The security wore uniforms and carried clubs, so they were pretty intimidating and averted most attempts to get at the guys. Another change was the demographic of their audiences, which had gone way down in age. Whereas before they played to girls of late high school age and women of college age or older, the record label seemed to be trying to attract the 8-15 years-old crowd, which were less sexually predatory and physically less intimidating to Micky. The final change was that their show was now extremely dynamic and participatory. They did a lot of business between songs, as opposed to just sitting behind their instruments and playing song after song. There were verbal segue ways between songs, consisting of jokes, introductions and costume changes, shared among the four of them now, instead of all of the MC'ing being in Mike's purview. So Micky was always pretty distracted during the show and didn't find much time to worry about the audience, which he could barely see because the lights were so much brighter at the larger venues they were playing.

In short, he was feeling safe, protected and more or less at ease, and it was reflected in his performances. He often ended up stealing the show with his comic _shtick_ and swaggering dancing and singing, when Davy would jump behind the drums to free up Micky for his solo turn. At one point in the show, he held the stage alone for several minutes while the other guys were doing costume changes. He was mesmerizing to the audience and truly in his element. There was synergy flowing both ways and he felt more at home on the stage than he had in months, or possibly ever since he had shifted from acting to music. He was having the time of his life on this tour.

"Gabby, you just can't believe the difference it's made, all the changes to the type of show we're doing, the venues we're playing, and the audience that's coming to hear us. I know Mike's ripped about us playing to a younger crowd. He thinks it makes us not Serious Musicians, but shit, they love us and were topping the charts! I mean, we're selling out to thousands of people every night! And you almost can't hear the music because they're screaming so loud for us, which also bugs the shit out of Mike, because again, that means we're not Serious Musicians. He thinks we oughta be playing to a bunch of Beatniks in berets nodding their heads smoking cigarettes and going 'Yeah, man, I dig the beat.' Did you catch that I'm capitalizing the S and M in Serious Musicians?" He laughed at poking fun at Mike's dour demeanor.

Wendy giggled. "Yeah, I caught that. I swear, sometimes I feel like you and I share one brain. Wendy and I are like that, too. When we were girls, we started using an acronym to describe it: '2G1B — 2 girls, 1 brain.' I just feel like a lot of times, you and I don't need words at all to communicate. Do you ever feel that way?"

"Definitely. And I feel like I know you better than anyone else. Like when you were in the hospital after the riot, everyone was trying to keep me from talking to you, treating me like a five-year-old, thinking I couldn't handle knowing you were hurt or like I was going to upset you too much if I talked to you, but not a damn one of them knew how to talk to you and figure out that you were having one of those out-of-body panic attacks. I really chewed Mike out about that. In fact, I threatened to punch him."

Wendy was shocked at this tidbit of new information. "Really? Wow! Now that's a side of you I don't know really."

"Yes you do. It's the side of me that will do anything to make sure that you're safe, happy and well. Speaking of which, tell me how you are."

"Oh, I'm fine. Chugging along, living my life. Doing my thing at the newspaper, looking for some trouble to get into, you know, the usual." She chuckled, knowing this would rile Micky up a bit.

"Gabby, please don't go off on a crusade while I'm away. At least wait until I'm back in the area before you take on your next Everest to climb."

"Yeah, I know. I'm just funnin' you. See, I know you really well. But I do need something else to work on. We wrapped our big special issue called "The Peace Revolt: Stop The Draft." 

The paper's looking for a new angle. We're doing a "Rock and Rule" issue. I'm thinking of doing a story on this groovy band called The Mothers of Invention led by this dude Frank Zappa. You wanna hear ironic? I already did a short pre-interview with him, and he claims he invented the term 'groupie.' So I have that to thank him for!"

Micky wasn't all that amused at this piece of trivia, feeling like he'd never live down his sordid past as a groupie gatherer, but Gabby headed his dark thoughts off at the pass.

"Micky, don't let your mind go there. This guy makes you look like an absolute angel. He's got some of his groupies living in a little shack out back behind his house, while he's got a wife and kid! And he's putting a bunch of them together to form a band and there's like a rotating lineup depending on who he's sleeping with at the moment. You can count yourself as a complete amateur now. Like a little leaguer who dabbled, while he's major leaguer. Put it behind you. This guy wrote the book on grossness when it comes to groupies. He was telling me about the pros and cons of which treatments to use for venereal diseases. Blech." She made a retching sound.

Micky suddenly shifted into protective boyfriend mode. "Well thanks for the dispensation, my Gabby, but why do I want this guy coming within a thousand yards of you?"

"Because I'm going to be interviewing him, Micky, not getting it on with him. He's a cutting edge music artist. I think you guys ought to meet him."

"Yeah, well, if I've got to take a chaperone with me on a date with a fifteen-year-old, how come you don't have to have one when you see this dude?"

"Micky, sweetie, I didn't insist on the chaperone. Your record label did. And Dawn did. And probably Wendy. I trust you. I'm telling you, when you see a picture of this guy you're going to laugh at the very notion of me sleeping with him."

"Then how come he has so many groupies?"

Gabby was getting partly exasperated and partly hysterical with mirth. "Because as Mike says, groupies fuck musicians for the points, the prestige, the novelty, the perks, the ego trip. It just so happens that the groupies who fucked you got really lucky that you are incredibly handsome, funny, sweet, smart, sensitive and considerate. But they'd probably have slept with you if you didn't have any of that, if this guy is anything to go by. I presume that's why Crosby thought I would sleep with him, right?"

Now Micky was the one having mixed emotions, feeling somewhat mollified at her compliments about his good qualities and Crosby's lack of them, but also more than a little disturbed at the thought that the groupies he slept with would have slept with him regardless. But he knew in his heart it was true.

"Yeah, you're probably right about that. I didn't change one bit between the days when we were scrambling for gigs and the time when we scored that contract at Cornwall's. The only thing that changed was the sweet smell of success. I guess chicks sense that and they dig it."

"I didn't mean to bring you down, Micky. I was just trying to reassure you that I'm not in any danger of running off with this guy and I don't need a chaperone, and you can rest easy wherever you are on Earth. And besides that, I know what I've got in you and I'm damn lucky and glad to have it. Okay?"

Micky shook himself out of his gloom and worry. "Yeah, of course. But is it okay if you just let me worry about you anyway? You wouldn't let me come with you to the march, and it upset me and I went off on you. I should have asked you to at least let me worry about you. In some weird way, it makes me feel like I'm taking care of you if I worry about you. Can you let me have that, please, Gabby, without it making you feel like I'm doubting you or challenging your ability to take care of yourself? I know you can. It's just my nature to worry and worry kind of equals love to me. It's like moms who cook too much food for the family. Food equals love to them. Can you let me just have my worry as love?"

Gabby's heart melted and she realized that she had been drawing a hard line where none needed to be drawn. She and Micky had different personalities and natures. Even if they could read each other's minds or share a brain in certain respects, they were still unique individuals and had their own strengths and weaknesses and tendencies and quirks. They must be honored, and she wasn't being fair asking him to change his underlying nature.

"I get what you're saying now, Micky. Of course, I'll be honored and pleased to accept all your worry as a token of your love. As long as you'll let me live my life as I feel I need to live it. And maybe as time goes by you will feel less inclined to worry about certain things. But sure, go ahead and worry if that's what makes you feel secure and on the job. I understand that we have different natures and we must honor them both. We aren't the same person and shouldn't try to be."

Micky sighed loudly and Gabby could hear him release a sob. "Thank you, my Gabriella, for understanding what I'm saying and who I am. I'm not trying to bear down on you. It's just that you're my everything and I want to keep watch over you, even if it's only in my mind."

"Thank you for cherishing me in your own special way, my Micky. So let's talk of happier things. Are they going to let you guys come home for the holidays? I'd love it if we could spend them together, maybe the whole Monkees family."

"Yes, we get to come home for Christmas and New Year's. No one goes to rock concerts at that time of the year. It's The Nutcracker and Nativity Play season. And we definitely have to all be together, because Mike and Davy share a birthday on December 30th."

"Oh, that's super! Well that gives us something to do. We can plan something. Ask the guys if they want to stay home or go away. Maybe you want to go to Palm Springs if Wendy's folks are up for loaning us their condo again, or maybe we could afford to rent our own place. I don't know the state of you guys' finances these days. Ask Wendy to talk to Mike and Davy and see what they want to do. I don't know if you guys are too famous for it by now, but Disneyland is another option."

"Okay, babe. I'll ask the guys and let you know. I guess we ought to say goodbye and save our money for the reunion instead of phone calls that leave me feeling like I miss you even more."

"I feel that way, too, my Micky. You really are my everything, too. And even though we are one, I do understand that we're two, and I want you to keep letting me know where we diverge and you need room to be you. I'm glad we talked about this."

"Thanks for getting me, Gabriella. I love you. I'll try to call in the next couple of days. Bye."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	10. Chapter 10

Wendy called Gabby the next day to let her know that the guys wanted to do both Palm Springs and Disneyland. They would go to Disneyland on the way down to Palm Springs the day after they got back. They arrived home on December 22 from the Pacific Northwest, so fortunately they weren't all that jet lagged. They had played to over 10,000 concert goers in Seattle, then took a red eye flight and arrived home near dawn and were driven by limo to the Pad. They all fell exhausted into bed and by early afternoon the girls were over with food and preparing a cookout for them.

Everyone agreed to put their libido on hold so that they could all sleep at the Pad and leave early for Disneyland the next morning. But that's not how it went. First Dawn and Peter snuck away to his bedroom and did their thing before anyone had a chance to notice they were gone. Then Davy noticed what was afoot and he was furious that he had been duped into this sucker's game of celibacy and said that the minute they came out of the bedroom, he and Jan had dibs. Unfortunately, Dawn and Peter had gotten high and fell asleep, which was becoming apparent after 2 ½ hours, as even Peter didn't have _that_ much stamina, Davy argued (Dawn would tell him differently if he had asked her).

Finally, Davy banged on the door and rousted them out like an army drill sergeant, red-faced and properly chastened. Then he whistled to Jan, who grabbed a bottle of whisky, Davy's favorite drink, two shot glasses, and said "Pardon me folks, I'm urgently needed elsewhere." Just to spite Peter, Davy got rip roaring drunk and kept Jan in the bedroom for three hours. When she emerged, she looked happy, dazed and was walking a little funny. Dawn raced over to her and said "Honey, you're going to need to get right into a hot bath. I think I've still got some bath salts here from when that happened to me."

Wendy and Gabby exchanged looks and just exploded with laughter. Mike stood up and said "Wendy, honey, how 'bout you and I build a fire on the beach for everyone and we leave Gabby and Micky the Pad for some private reunion time?"

Wendy nodded and started snatching afghans and pillows off the couches and out of the closets. Since she and Mike had been getting theirs nice and regular throughout the tour, they had no need to have sex tonight, or if they fancied it, they could take some of the bedding over to the Nooky Nook.

Gabby and Micky were left sitting on the couch as the others filed out. They were sipping wine and were definitely comfortably squidgy. They just grinned at each other, neither of them saying a word. Finally, Gabby broke the silence.

"Are you trying to think up a fantasy for us, a director's scenario, my Micky?"

Micky shook his head slowly and deliberately. "Nope. Not tonight. Tonight I'm Micky Dolenz, musician who's been on the road without his woman too damned long. Who are you?"

Gabby thought about it and responded "I'm Gabriella Levitt, peace activist and reporter who's been having a less than satisfying love life with her vibrator for several weeks and wants the real thing."

Micky's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "So you got one?!"

"Yeah, I figured I may as well. Not just to help me reach that G-spot but to keep me company when you're away. May as well face it. I'm going to be having an electronic affair for a great portion of my life if I stick with you, dude."

Micky sighed and said "True. Are you okay with that?"

Gabby said "Yeah, I am. It's not bad. In fact, it's pretty groovy."

Micky frowned. "Now don't go getting so used to that – that — _thing_ that I can't compete!"

"Micky, my Micky. My vibrator isn't any match for you on any level. Your licks, your touches, your creative, tantric setups, your fantasies, your loving touch, your shouty noises, your curls I could lose my hands in for days, your . . ."

"Okay, I'm convinced. You're making me want to take you right here on the couch. Let's go upstairs. Just one more question about the vibrator."

"The answer is yes."

Micky's mouth dropped open. "I didn't even ask you the question yet."

"2L1B — 2 lovers, 1 brain. You want to know if you can watch me use it, right?"

Micky blushed and a smile crept across his face. "Yeah."

Gabby giggled. "And I said yes. It's at my place, though, so you'll have to wait."

"Not if you bring it to Palm Springs."

She rolled her eyes and asked "Didn't you just tell me to not use that thing too much? Am I gonna have to fight you on how often I use it?"

"Maybe I'll let you use it on me."

Gabby turned pale. "Not up your ass?"

"No, of course not! Jeez, will you stop with the ass fixation?" He started to laugh.

She looked relieved and a bit sheepish. "Okay, phew. Just checking. It's just that, well, you know, Nick. And you said you didn't want that."

"Right. I don't. And if I ever do, I'll probably go find a guy to give it to me good and proper and I'll dump your ass first and then go get it. Just like our protocol dictates. Right? All clear with our procedures, Captain?"

Gabby smiled "I'm Captain today?"

Micky shook his head. "No, not Captain Kirk. You're Captain of the rules of how we conduct this relationship in the most meticulous of ways. Deal?" He held his hand out to her.

"Deal." She gave him her hand, and he kissed her knuckles and continued right up her arm, one of his patented moves. He snuggled his face in her neck and kissed her until she giggled and squirmed, then he swept her up and threw her over his shoulder and carried her up the stairs.

He plopped her on the bed and she asked "No fantasy, huh? Just you and me?"

"Yep," he said, giving her a smoldering, hungry look.

She drew in a big breath and squirmed under his keen, serious appraisal. "Wow, you know, it's been so long since we had sex or made love as just ourselves, I feel almost scared or shy."

"That's why we're doing it this way. I need to get back in touch with you as you and me as me. We've been apart too long. I need to know you still love and want me. That I'm still your everything."

"Oh, Micky, I – "

He silenced her with a deep kiss. He wanted their bodies and minds to do the talking. He wanted to see how they fit together again after such a long absence. Had anything changed? Was Gabby regretting letting him leave for so long? Was there _any_ regret on her part? Was there as much hunger on her side as on his? He wouldn't be able to assess any of these nuances if they were role playing. It needed to be stripped down and basic and real.

It would also be simple. Nothing fancy. Just straight and to the point. After they undressed, he sat her on the bed and kissed her all over her body softly as a "Hello, I've missed you terribly" greeting. Then he sat back and silently beckoned her to do the same. She perceived that this would be a reunion without their usual playful, witty or even meaningful banter. Micky needed to know that they could communicate on their deep level without words, that they were still on the same wavelength. When she had kissed him everywhere, they embraced and rocked back and forth. He buried his face in her neck and breathed in her scent deeply, and she ran her hands through his curls. Every part of each of them felt like it still slotted in together – that felt good.

Feeling reassured, Micky pressed on, making his kisses more sensual, moister, deeper and spreading them all over her. Then he paused, tacitly requesting the same treatment back, which she reciprocated. She thought of Micky almost as needing worshiping, as needing to be bound up in love. He seemed slightly damaged and bruised from his travels, and she wanted to restore him to health, so she massaged him and ran her fingernails over his skin, stimulating him and giving him goosebumps and shivers. Then she sat back and waited for his next move.

Up until now, all had been silent. Micky usually asked Gabby what she wanted. He was about to when she took her hand to cover his lips and still his words. She felt it crucial to keep the silence between them. She laid down and opened her arms to him, beckoning him to do whatever he wanted to do, to take his pleasure or to grant hers first, but to make that decision for them. He raised an eyebrow in inquiry and she nodded her assent. He kissed her deeply and pressed his whole body down on top of her, something he only did when he felt unsure of where he stood with her, where they stood with each other. She welcomed his body's pressure upon her, spread her legs, and guided him into her.

Everything was silent and slow to begin with. He was still focused on her body, her neck, her breasts, her lips. She wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him down close to her and urged him to move inside her by bucking her hips up a bit. He began to undulate and glide back and forth inside her, causing her to gasp and puff small breaths out and sip breaths of air back in. He was in no hurry until all of a sudden it was a matter of great urgency and he grasped her torso with one hand and her thigh with the other and rutted against her as she reached for his back to encourage him silently — no audible cheerleading this time. He cried out as he usually did, but not with words, only with sounds.

As he recovered from his climax, he pressed himself against Gabby again and she encouraged the close contact, hugging him and stroking his skin and hair. He whispered very quietly into her ear, " _I'm home_." She squeezed him in acknowledgement, knowing that that phrase was their way of referring to reconnecting physically after a long separation, as a way of re-establishing complete trust, as they did after their two-month physical separation after Gabby's hospitalization.

He pulled back and silently inquired what Gabby wanted. She took his hand and pulled it down to her coochie and peeled back two of his fingers and brought them to the entry and dipped them in the fluid coating it. He knew she wanted him to do for her what she couldn't do for herself without the aid of her new electric friend — to stroke her G-spot. He inserted his fingers and curled them, stroking the rough, raised spot behind her pubic bone. He took the thumb of his other hand and ran it over her slippery love button and applied firm pressure. A zing of electricity ran through her and she took a sharp intake of breath and arched her back. He slid his fingers in and out, slipping his thumb over and around. Her hips began to move, in a circle, in an S shape, back and forth, side to side, chasing contact with his hands and the nerve endings he was touching. When he found a spot that seemed promising, she'd whisper "Stay, stay, stay..."

Suddenly her breath sped up and she was like a sled siding down a great hill of slippery snow. Micky could tell the momentum was moving fast and inexorably towards the bottom of the hill, and he quickly inserted a third finger inside her, causing her to moan and cry out luxuriantly, but like Micky, she used no words. Only sounds, moans, cries, gasps, sighs. He continued to move his thumb over and over and over her hot spot without her needing to entreat him to do so, for which she was grateful. This time, the affirmation of their ability to communicate wordlessly was on her end. He knew what she wanted, what she needed, and he remembered it and knew exactly what to do and how to do it. He didn't withdraw his fingers, either, as she continued to contract for a few more minutes and moaned and writhed quietly. When the contractions and buzzing ceased, she laid her hand over his and helped him withdraw it. They clasped hands, hers sweaty from clenching her fist, his slippery and sticky with both of their fluids. She licked one of his fingers and he licked one as well. Then they kissed each other and their tongues met, swapping the salty taste of both their fluids. It was an odd ritual that felt spiritual and primitive and almost ancient. The last step was for Gabby to say very quietly " _Welcome home, my Micky_."

The house filled back up with people as Micky and Gabby took a bath before bedtime. They changed into pajamas and climbed into Micky's tiny single bed. It reminded them of old times for the house to be full of bodies, like the first time they had a slumber party, the night Gabby got threatened with sexual assault by a then-coworker at a gig. Gabby had sought Micky's comforting presence, but they weren't intimate yet and she didn't trust herself not to go too far too fast if she invited him to sleep at her place, so she slept in his bed knowing that with Mike in the room, nothing untoward would happen. Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, everyone had rallied round her and insisted on sleeping at the Pad with their respective partner, and the first of their epic sleepovers took place. It turned out to be the inauguration of the Monkees family. Usually these sleepovers took place when tragedy or trauma took place. It was refreshing for one to be occurring on the eve of a happy occasion.

Mike had forcibly turned Wendy into an early riser over the course of the tour, so they got up "at dawn's ass crack" — as Wendy's slang deemed it — and rustled up bagels and lox for everyone. They had an early morning feast and then the guys packed up their gear for the trip to Palm Springs. The girls had already brought all their gear for the trip with them to the Pad. Lynda and Robert were skipping the trip to Disneyland because they had to work, but would meet them down in Palm Springs when they could get away from their jobs. They hit the road at 9 a.m. and got to Disneyland around 10:30 a.m. Gabby warned the guys about an article she had read in _The Daily Free Press_ , a rival liberal underground newspaper, which had recently done a story on how Disneyland had taken to barring male patrons from the park if their hair reached below their collar. She gave a brief screed about the Fascistic nature of such a practice, and also noted that the park made sure to take the patron's parking fees before they were refused service. She got so worked up that she suggested they boycott the park and drive straight to Palm Springs until Wendy told her to get off her soap box and stuff a sock in it.

As their birthday gifts, everyone chipped in and bought extra tickets for Mike and Davy so that they could go on more rides than the normal book of tickets allowed. The group initially started out together, riding some of the more popular rides together, such as the Matterhorn rollercoaster, the Rocket Ride, the Autopia (Mike's absolute favorite since he was a car aficionado), and Pirates of the Caribbean. They decided to separate into smaller clumps or pairs when a few people started to recognize the guys collectively as the Monkees and some buzz began to hum with requests for autographs and photos.

Once the group had used most of their coveted "E- tickets" for the really exciting rides, Peter and Dawn, and Micky and Gabby, all still children at heart, opted to take a break and use up all their tickets of lesser value on the kiddie rides. Micky insisted he would not get sick if he repeatedly rode the spinning teacup ride, but Gabby and Dawn could see the handwriting on the wall and opted out, so only Peter was brave enough to accompany Micky on his third trip on the ride. Sure enough, Micky got off the ride and ran to the nearest trash can to yak up the bagels and lox he had eaten for breakfast. Peter seemed to have either an iron stomach or extraordinary inner ear balance, as he seemed completely unfazed by the experience. Gabby was left to run to the ladies room to make a cold compress of paper towels for Micky's forehead. She suggested they do something a little more sedate.

In truth, she was dying to visit one of her favorite attractions, the Tiki Room, for which she had held back one E-ticket. She helped Micky to his feet and they staggered off to sit and watch the show in a room full of singing animatronic macaws with various ethnicities, including German, Mexican and Irish, as well as singing tropical flowers, carved idols and gods on totem poles, and spurting, dancing fountains. The charismatic birds told jokes and led singalongs, and Gabby enjoyed herself immensely just like she did when she was a kid, while Micky recovered his equilibrium and was able to join in with the final chorus of "Let's All Sing Like the Birdies Sing."

Their next stop was the Swiss Family Treehouse, which was a gigantic fake tree kitted out as the Swiss Family Robinson's abode. By now, Micky had perked up and he enthusiastically clambered up the branches with Gabby to view the cozy home the family had outfitted from remnants of their smashed up ship. Gabby leaned into Micky and hummed "Oh, Micky, if you had a place like that, in a treehouse, I think I'd move in with you in a red hot minute."

Micky responded "I'll start looking for a tree and a ship to wreck." When they made their way to the bottom, they clasped hands and he confided "I'm really glad the guys have decided to stay put in the Pad for now. I think we all need the stability. Everything is moving so fast, changing and getting so confusing. We need something to stay the same. It felt really good to come home and have it feel stable and familiar."

"My mom has a terrific vocabulary and she would call that homeostasis. Me, being a highly functioning nut, I call it getting my ruffled feathers smooth again."

Micky ran a hand over Gabby's sleek cap of hair and said "I like that concept. I think you and I feel things more deeply than other people. Like vibes and emotions."

Gabby nodded her head in agreement. "Yes, that's what's called being an empath, or being empathetic. That's when you pick up on other people's feelings, or just what's in the atmosphere or even what nonhuman creatures are feeling. Yeah, you can even tap into animals' feelings. I think that's why I feel so attached to dogs. I have whole conversations with them. I know what they're feeling and thinking."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I could tell those animals I worked with as a kid on _Circus Boy_ weren't too happy with their lot in life. I always felt really sorry for them and tried to treat them really well. It haunted me what happened to them when the show went off the air. That was my first encounter with a shrink."

Gabby was surprised to hear Micky was no stranger to therapy. She had a "tell me more" look on her face.

Mick explained "My parents sent me to therapy after the show ended. I think they must have been worried about my not being very well adjusted to the real world and not understanding how to interact with normal kids or how to handle certain typical kid situations. And I kind of had a problem with my temper. I'd take out my frustrations on inanimate objects and destroy things. I had some issues, to put it mildly."

"Wow, you'd never know it by talking to you now."

Micky shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "I guess I'm also a highly functioning nut. Yet another reason why we fit so well together. Now if you tell me that you aren't afraid to ride Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, then I'll know that you're wife material. What do you say?"

Gabby grinned. "Bring it on, Circus Boy!"

The group met up for dinner and to watch the evening extravaganza show, Fantasy on Parade. They felt reasonably safe in congregating as a group, cloaked in the darkening evening atmosphere. All the costumed Disney characters marched by in formation and shook hands with the audience and took pictures with them. Dancers and acrobats enlivened the parade. There were vehicles and floats all lit up and dressed with streamers and paper flowers. At the end, there was a fireworks display that was very impressive, particularly to Peter, Dawn, Davy and Wendy, who were baked on some very fine bud Dawn's boss had sold her. Gabby mused that the fireworks would have mixed better with acid or maybe worse, as the case may be.

After the show concluded and the last firework popped, the group staggered back to their cars and drove on to Palm Springs, stopping first at the grocery and liquor stores as usual for supplies. It was after midnight when they got to the condo and chose bedrooms. Micky and Gabby ceded their previous room, feeling it had bad juju as it was the scene of one of their two horrendous arguments. Peter and Dawn nabbed it and Dawn gave Peter a lascivious grin as she led him towards the en-suite bathroom, which was equipped with a tub.

Micky and Gabby opted to take a late night Jacuzzi instead of a bath. They got into their swimsuits and padded out to the pool area. Even though it was December, it was still in the 70s, and the water was warm enough to make it feasible to be outside scantily dressed. Once they had been in the water for a few minutes, Micky had Gabby even more scantily dressed, or in fact, not dressed at all. She was wearing her white two piece swimsuit, with the flowing tank top and tiny bikini bottoms. Micky slid his hands under her top and rubbed his hands over her belly. He loved to do this, and in his mind's eye, wondered what she would feel like with a pregnant belly. He only ever thought of it when she wore this particular item of clothing. He ran his fingertips lightly over the mounds of her breasts overflowing from the empire waist bodice of the top. She looked like she had emerged from a Jane Austen period drama and Micky's imagination was off and running, as he removed her swimsuit.

"Tonight, my Gabby, you're Elizabeth Bennet and I'm the stern, proud Mr. Darcy. You're going to show me what I've overlooked about your fine qualities when I didn't deign to dance with you at that first ball I saw you at, when I was too proud to ask you to dance."

Gabby sighed with supreme content. "Micky, how do you continue to think up ways to impress me and turn me on? I don't mean the specifics of the fantasies you spin, but the fact that you're literate and have read Pride and Prejudice."

Micky bowed his head "Well, actually, I cheated. I saw the movie."

Gabby laughed. "Thanks for tipping your hand. Still, you know a fantastic romance when you see it. I tell you what. I'm going to get a copy of that book and I'm going to read it to you. I think you'll love it. It's pretty satirical and hilarious."

"I like that idea. Too bad we gave up the tub to Dawn and Peter. You could have read it to me there."

Gabby's eyes got dreamy and she said "Well, maybe someday, we'll have one . . ."

Micky's expression turned from surprise to quiet delight, then he pretended he hadn't noticed Gabby slip into this reverie about a future together, since she appeared not to have noticed herself.

Gabby came back to the present moment and began to list all her most challenging and alluring features. Micky listened and couldn't help but cast his mind back to the first night they met.

"You know, it's really the other way around. The night we met, I wanted you and you rejected me. I had to pursue you and run you to ground. I saw right away all your good qualities. It was you who had to be convinced that I had anything going for me."

Gabby shook her head gently at him. "My Micky, this is why people say the book is always better than the movie. In the book, neither one of them could see each other's true natures. They more or less had a physical attraction to each other and they liked to verbally joust. Still, you do make a good point in that Darcy fell for Elizabeth first and fast. He knew she was a hot ticket and a keeper and he was just too proud to credit her for overcoming her humble background and hideous relations. She pretty much despised him and got it all wrong who he was and what he was all about until about the last third of the book. Just like when I met you. I had you pegged all wrong. I'm glad it didn't take me as long as it did Lizzie to give you a chance."

Micky smiled and pulled Gabby onto his lap. "Me too. I've always been grateful to you for giving me the chance to prove myself and my love for you. I don't have a grand estate or a huge fortune like he did, but . . ."

Gabby stopped Micky's mouth with a kiss. It was one of their long, complicated kisses. When it was over, she said "You know all I care about is your support, fidelity and honesty, Micky. That you care for me, take care of me, listen to me and try to hear what I'm saying, share yourself with me, those are gifts beyond price."

Micky kissed her gently again. "Good. I've got plenty of all of that to offer you."

Gabby wrapped her legs around Micky and climbed up towards his groin and sank down upon it, moving slowly and deliberately. Soon she had the reaction she was looking for and she became one with Micky. They moved and rocked together as she gripped her legs around his middle tightly. He kissed her breasts as they floated in front of him. Then as he grew closer to his impending bliss, he pulled her tightly to him and hugged her, kissing her neck and murmuring her name. He came this way, trying not to make too much noise, sinking his mouth and tongue into her shoulder and allowing himself only to groan with pleasure. Gabby ran her hands down his back and bottom, then up to his head and through his hair, giving him goosebumps and shivers despite the heat from the water. They stayed that way for another fifteen minutes or so, silent, just rocking and purring and cooing to each other, stroking each other gently, until Gabby said she was getting sleepy and wanted to go to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


	11. Chapter 11

It was Christmas Eve, but in California, it never really felt like Christmas, and particularly in Palm Springs there seemed to be a lack of Christmas atmosphere. Throw into that mix a couple of Jews — Wendy and Gabby — and it was kind of confusing to everyone's system. Still, the two Jews rallied everyone and insisted that the group stir their stumps and make an effort to get into the spirit of the holiday. The guys and the girls split up a list of errands and chores and decided to try to do a bit of gift shopping as well. The girls took their car and the guys took the Monkeemobile, which was larger, so the guys were charge of buying at least some sort of decorations.

When everyone returned to the condo, the results were actually pretty satisfying. Somehow the boys had managed to find an actual Christmas tree and some cheap ornaments, as well as some cranberries and popcorn for everyone to string on the tree. They had stopped in the desert somewhere and picked up great big branches of wild greens to spread around the house with ribbons tied to them, and on Peter's insistence, they bought candles (Peter was a candle freak, having been given a really weird one shaped like a penis at the Monterey Pop Festival by someone backstage).

The girls had gone to the grocery and purchased the fixings for a decent Christmas dinner

The girls had gone to the grocery and purchased the fixings for a decent Christmas dinner. Fortunately, Jan was an excellent cook and volunteered to cover that part of the celebration, since the other girls were pretty hopeless. Also, Lynda and Robert would be coming down that evening and Lynda was competent in the kitchen.

The family sat around for the late afternoon, drinking eggnog and stringing the cranberries and popcorn for the tree. Or at least, that was the plan. Unfortunately, Micky was acting like a three-year-old and either kept pricking his finger and howling with pain or complaining that it was too hard to get the needle through the hard cranberries, or he'd be caught trying to filch a piece of popcorn and get scolded, or he'd get a piece of popcorn onto his string and get it almost all the way slid down and it would break apart and he'd get frustrated and pout. Finally, Gabby went into the kitchen and grabbed him a plate of cookies, steered him into a chair in front of the TV, placed the remote in his hands and told him to entertain himself while the grownups took care of their work. Everyone gassed with laughter at Gabby's inadvertent motherly tableau and even Micky took some satisfaction in it, grinning to himself as he began hunting around for something to watch.

Robert and Lynda arrived bearing dinner, several pizzas that Wendy had called in an order for, and the party felt like it was truly underway with the entire family assembled. Lynda asked where she and Robert would be dossing down and Wendy showed her to a small office that had a couch with a pullout bed. After they ate, there were Christmas presents to wrap, so everyone snuck off to their rooms or other people's rooms to take care of that chore in secret. Suddenly, a pile began to grow beneath the tree that made their celebration seem real and legitimately festive.

Wendy had the radio on blasting Christmas carols and made sure everyone had plenty of eggnog or their drink of choice. To her surprise, the doorbell rang and it turned out to be a few of their friends from their first trip to Palm Springs who were back in town for the holiday. The party got bigger and more festive, and even though this wasn't her holiday, Wendy took great joy and satisfaction in the scene set before her. She had even purchased a Santa Claus hat which she was wearing at a jaunty angle. She reminded Mike about the conversation on their first double date with Peter and Dawn at the flea market about how a hat can transform your persona and mood.

He put an arm around her and leaned down to brush his lips against hers. "Well, mah Sweet Petite, I'm glad to see you've graduated from elf status. You're a real good leader, with or without the hat." Wendy flushed with pleasure, knowing he was referring not just to her organizing this impromptu Christmas celebration, but to her contribution to the Monkees' success as well.

As usual, when guests were present, the instruments came out and music was played. And also as usual, when the Palm Springs guests were around, the air was heavy with the smell of weed. Gabby and Micky declined as one of Dawn's shop's fancy bongs was offered. They both felt fine about the choice they had made, but in the age in which they were living, they knew they stuck out like sore thumbs and just hoped no one would hassle them or question their decision. Fortunately, no one did. Everyone was mellow and just doing their own thing. Lynda, another abstainer, always looked to Gabby for support and backup in these situations and invariably smiled or winked at her, as if they had their own little secret society.

Gabby settled her head down in Micky's lap and closed her eyes, while he ran his hand over her hair. She reflected on the difference between this Christmas and the previous one. Last year at this time, she had just recently escaped the clutches of a twisted, narcissistic monster who had broken her self-esteem and filled her with doubt and shame. This year, she was in the company of her childhood best friend, several new friends, and the man she hoped she might spend her life with. She still didn't have clarity on that last point as to whether it would happen, but she knew at least that she'd like it to. That was a huge step up for her in the level of commitment she was willing to make to Micky. She wondered what the new year would bring. She dozed off pondering various possibilities.

The next morning, Micky and Davy rousted everyone out of bed at an ungodly early hour, insisting that they not miss a minute of Christmas. Davy's wakeup technique was rather brutal and jarring: he'd stick his head in a bedroom and shout "Oy, mates, off your arses, Christmas is here!" Micky was more like his little boy self, cracking open the door and peeking in, squeaking, "Hey, you guys, can you wake up so we can get Christmas started, pleeeeeeease?"

Lynda assembled coffee and tea, while Jan made pancakes and bacon. Wendy grumbled about why they couldn't have at least have thought to buy bagels and lox to represent her and Gabby's religion, while Gabby pointed out that Charles Dickens's signature holiday would never have included such fare. Micky was rocking back and forth on his heels, stealing looks over towards the Christmas tree and the pile underneath it. Gabby put her hand on is shoulder to still him and said "Now Micky, you have to eat your breakfast like a good boy before you can open your presents." By now it had occurred to her that everyone was laughing at the way she was managing Micky's manic holiday spirit and she was playing it for the laughs.

After a leisurely breakfast despite Micky's ants in pants squirming, they moved over to the Christmas tree and Wendy put her Santa hat back on. She picked up each present, read the tag and handed it to the recipient. Gabby just looked at her and said "Wendileh, you have Christmas envy, don't you? You look like you've been wanting to play Santa your whole life and now you have the chance." Wendy beamed and just responded in their special code "2G1B" to indicate that Gabby had hit the bullseye in reading her friend's mind again.

They had agreed that only partners would exchange gifts since it was a big group and funds were still uncertain given their first royalty check had not yet arrived, and of course the girls were just living off their normal budgets. Gabby insisted that Micky open his gift first because he was about to climb the walls with anticipation. His gift actually consisted of two parts contained in one box. First, he lifted out a small, irregularly shaped packet, which turned out to be a string of shiny, gunmetal grey hematite beads. He ran his fingers over the smooth beads, which were natural stones and not uniform in shape but just polished once they were extracted from the ground. He immediately threw the necklace around his neck and exclaimed "I love it! " Then he noticed that there was a small card lying in the wrapping paper. It said:

Hematite helps to absorb negative energy and calms in times of stress or worry. Hematite is a very protective stone and is great to carry to help you stay grounded in many situations. Hematite is also good for working with the Root Chakra, helping to transform negative energies into a more positive vibration.

He looked up at Gabby and his eyes shimmered with tears. He hugged her and cradled her head to his lips, whispering "Maybe I ought to cover you in hematite bangles and beads while I'm away so I don't have to worry about you." She laughed and said "I hadn't thought of it that way!"

He set the card aside and unwrapped the other item in the box. It was a hardcover copy of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. He opened up the book to smell the pages and noticed an inscription inside: To my Micky. I see all your fine qualities and my pride where you're concerned comes from seeing you grow and thrive, and for my place in your life. I look forward to reading this story with you. Merry Christmas, 1967. Love, your Gabriella. He gave her another smile, this one of pleasurable anticipation, and said "I know what we'll be doing for the next few days. Thank you, my Gabby. We have many stories to live together. I look forward to them all."

Micky's gift for Gabby was in an odd-shaped, oblong box. Gabby shook it and something heavy slid back and forth. She tore open the paper, opened the box, and out popped two leather straps, one shorter than the other. She blushed, thinking this was some sort of sex toy that Micky was giving her as either a joke or deadly serious. She looked around to see if anyone else was watching them or could see, but everyone else was focused on their own gifts.

"Micky," she whined, "this is a little inappropriate given the circumstances, don't you think? I mean, Valentine's Day or something, maybe, but Christmas?"

Micky looked utterly confused for a moment but then put two and two together and burst out laughing. He howled with laughter so heartily that now everyone was looking at them, and Gabby was even more embarrassed and uncomfortable. She hid the present under the wrapping paper that had been around Micky's gift. She gave him a dig in the ribs and complained "It's not funny, Micky! This is really embarrassing! I mean, I'm okay with it if that's what you want, but really, it's a weird way to bring it up."

Finally, Micky was able to catch his breath and speak. Wiping the tears from his eyes and cheeks, he gasped, "Read the tag, Gabby."

She looked down at a tag on the shorter piece of leather that was a collar and it had a small silver disc on it. The disc was stamped with a name on it. It read in capital letters "SCHMOOSHY" with a space below it for a phone number if the dog got lost so the owner could be called if it was found. Now Gabby examined the other item and realized it was a matching dog leash. A collar and a leash, for her future pug progeny. Not a sex fetish gift. Oh, her embarrassment now! She covered her face with both her hands and started to laugh and groan.

Micky took her into his arms for a sympathetic, comforting hug and said "Merry Christmas, my Gabby. That's for your firstborn child."

She drew back and exclaimed "Wow, that's generous of you to think that way. I really appreciate that more than even the gift itself, Micky. And thank you for the gift. It's lovely. You're making me feel all broody now, like I can't wait for the future."

"Well, I confess, that was the thinking behind the gift. I want you to look forward to things a bit, Gabby. Nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong with dreaming, wanting, wishing. I look at where we are now and I can hardly believe it, given where we started out. It's like my song, I'm A Believer. I want that for you as much as myself. It's okay not to be a strict pragmatist. Life isn't going to always bite you in the ass. Sometimes dreams really do come true. At least in my case they have."

Gabby mulled Micky's words and said "You're right. I've been holding myself so tightly, trying to tamp down not just any expectations I might have, but any aspirations as well. I guess that's leftover trauma. I should share that with my shrink next time I see her. You're really very wise, Micky. You're teaching me a lot about life and helping me heal in so many ways. Thank you. And thank you for this wonderful, thoughtful gift." She kissed him and snuggled into his warm embrace.

He leaned into her and whispered "So you'd be okay with me tying you up, huh?"

She giggled and slapped his shoulder. "I don't really know. It would have to be a really loving situation with probably something a lot nicer than a leather strap. That looks too heavy duty for me. I wouldn't want it to be anything that would be a trigger, you know? But if I were in a situation where you had me gently restrained and I couldn't move and I was forced to endure your loving ministrations, and I had a way to let you know if I needed to get loose fast, then yeah that would be okay."

Micky just replied "Mhmmm. Gotcha. Yup." She knew that now he was off in his own imagination and there was no retrieving him, so she just sat back against the couch, pulled his head into her lap and stroked his curly hair. She let her fingers run over the surface of his new beads and for each bead she counted a blessing.

The trip passed by with both leisure and activity. During the day, everyone did their own thing in couples and clumps, and at night there was always dinner together at the condo to avoid the paparazzi. Gabby and Micky had been lolling around the pool and Jacuzzi reading Pride and Prejudice to each other. Some of the others went sightseeing. They had been to Joshua Tree National Park, to a botanical garden with all sorts of cacti and indigenous plants and flowers, and downtown to see what was there. One day Micky and Gabby, being movie buffs, took a ride around a neighborhood known as The Movie Colony, where celebrities such as Frank Sinatra, Bob Hope, Cary Grant, Bing Crosby and Marilyn Monroe had made their homes. The guys had even splurged and gone to one of the fancy country clubs to have a game of golf. Surprisingly, despite being the least athletic of the bunch, Mike did the best, possibly because he was the most patient and determined, two qualities needed in abundance for that game.

The 30th rolled around and everyone wished Mike and Davy a happy birthday. Mike was turning 25 and Davy was turning 22. They had first met when Davy was not yet 19, which really put into perspective how much they had grown up together and how far they had come in that short period of time.

Even though there had been a celebration at Disneyland for their birthday, everyone insisted that they do something special to mark their official birthday. They decided to ride into town and be patrons at a nightclub for a change, instead of the hired help.

But first, the guys wanted to take the girls out for a classy, decent meal. They arranged for a private dining room at a restaurant where they could discreetly eat and enjoy themselves without attracting too much attention. Still, they were recognized by the restaurant staff, who alerted the management, who pleaded for a photo to add to the restaurant's wall of celebrity patron photos. The guys agreed with somewhat stunned expressions at the surreal situation they found themselves in, posing for a photo that would sit next to the likes of Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, and other giants of entertainment.

In the darkness, din and crowd of the nightclub that was their next stop, they were able to blend in with relative anonymity. That is, until the band took a break and the jukebox came on. Someone played Clarkesville, someone else spotted Davy's distinctive short stature and Mike's one-of-a-kind mutton chop sideburns, and suddenly folks started putting two and two together and they were beginning to be besieged for requests for autographs and attention. They needed to make the first of what would be a lifetime of such decisions: stay and deal with the crush of public adoration and curiosity, or cut and run to protect not just privacy but possibly life and limb. Not having any experience with arranging for security or VIP treatment, the only sensible option seemed to be to leave quickly before the situation got out of hand.

Mike quickly gathered the group and they started moving towards the exit. This turned out to be a miscalculation, as a surge of patrons was coming through the door and was funneled directly into their path. They had no other choice but to flee to the office area of the club and explain their predicament. After being extorted for a photo and autographs, the club owner agreed to let them leave via a private back exit. He invited them to come back the following night to ring in the new year and promised to set them up with a more protected, VIP situation. They thanked him, slipped out the exit and raced to their cars.

There was a mixture of emotions. Disappointment at not being able to enjoy an evening out. Frustration that they didn't know the ropes for handling their budding, newfound fame. Awe that this was now their life, that they were bona fide celebrities. Pride that their music had achieved success and widespread acclaim. And just a bit of fear of that mob mentality that had turned those club patrons almost feral when they recognized them.

The next day, they were mulling their options for how to celebrate New Year's Eve. The guys were a bit grumpy about their interrupted revel from the night before, but they worried about going out in public for fear of causing a similar scene. Wendy stepped up to take the lead, as she was doing more often these days — a remarkable turn of events given Mike's status and proclivity as leader and control freak and her original habit of low self-esteem.

"Okay, everyone. I'm calling a family meeting. Gabby, go gather the troops." Wendy waited for everyone to assemble and then set forth the agenda. "We need to address the topic of notoriety and celebrity and how we're going to handle it. We can't have a repeat of last night, I realize that. But we can't have you guys hiding out at home, all caged up and getting cranky. And I know we girls are supposed to be on the down low, but we've already left the big city for a sleepy resort town in off-season, so we've done our part and we're entitled to go out with our menfolk and have a good time. You owe us that much.

"When we get back to L.A., I will look into what sort of accommodations celebrities generally get so that they can go about living their lives in relative peace. I'll talk to the suits at the label and the Wallichs brothers. You guys will talk to your famous music friends, which means Peter will talk to Stills and he'll also grit his teeth and enter the lioness's den, with Dawn, and go to one of Mama Cass's parties and ask around.

"So that takes care of long range planning. But what are we going to do tonight? I think we should put it to a vote, but I personally am sick of the sight of the inside of this little house and think we should take that club owner up on his offer to accommodate us. I could call him up and work something out with him. If I even get a whiff of him trying to sell us out to the paparazzi, we can stay home. Who's with me?"

Everyone raised their hands, though Mike's went up last. Ever the worrier, ever the papa bear, Mike was concerned about all the contingencies they couldn't plan for, all the consequences they couldn't foresee. But he had grown to trust and rely on Wendy, had seen her grow and mature in these last couple of months, and was willing to go with her instincts and savvy.

Wendy saw all the hands in favor of her proposal and exclaimed "Yay, New Year's Eve is saved! I'll go call that guy. Mike, let me have his card. Does anyone have a copy of the album to give him as a sweetener? That might go a long way to keeping him from calling any photographers or reporters." All business now, Wendy whirled into action and got busy on the phone, while everyone else buzzed about getting ready to go out.

She got off the phone and reported back to the group "Okay, we're a go. I told him we have a signed album for him in exchange for a table at the back of the club with velvet rope barrier and a bouncer at our disposal. I also told him that we'd be spreading the word that his club is the place to go for primo VIP treatment in Palm Springs, provided we have a good experience. I dropped a few names of our friends and acquaintances, and he's impressed enough that he said he would make sure that we had the best New Year's Eve ever."

Mike ambled over to Wendy, grinning like a proud papa, put his arm around her and his hand on her head and mussed her already wild hair. "Girl, you're gettin' real good at this racket. You just got a natural flair for handlin' people. I'm real proud of you, and grateful." He bent down to plant a scorcher of a kiss on her, then scooped her up and carried her off in the direction of their bedroom. Presumably he intended to show her the extent of his appreciation and admiration privately.

Micky was sitting on the bed, watching Gabby get ready to go out. She was in her bra and panties, doing her makeup at a mirrored vanity so that it wouldn't muss up her clothing. When she stood up, he moved behind her and slid his arms around her middle. He was looking at her in the mirror and locked eyes with her. She watched him in the mirror as he began to run his hands over her body, then up to her breasts and under her bra, rubbing, pinching, tweaking, caressing. He let one of his hands stray down her belly, dip below the waistband of her panties and move quickly down to her slit, passing her clitoris on the way down. She was already soaking wet from his stimulation of her top half, plus from the erotic sight of watching him in the mirror.

His fingers entered her to gather some moisture, then moved back up to her sensitive nub. He touched it gently and she twitched. Then he pressed it harder and she moaned quietly. Suddenly, he was moving fast in circles and swirls, stimulating her and periodically dipping down to gather more moisture. Gabby was finding it harder to stand, so he guided her towards the vanity to lean on it but continued to rub her. His other hand also continued its relentless manipulation of her top half. He felt her muscles beginning to clench, which told him that he was creating a tidal wave for Gabby that was just about to crest. She thrashed and moaned and leaned back onto him now for the support she needed. She could only utter one word repeatedly, "Micky, Micky, Micky." She began by hissing it, then whimpering it, then begging him in his name, then thanking him by name, as she cycled through the stages of impending orgasm, arrival, completion and afterglow.

Micky removed his hands from Gabby, sensing she was now too sensitive to his touch, and substituted tiny whispers of kisses along her neck and shoulders instead. She turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss that went on and on, then she sat down on the seat where she had been doing her makeup and looked up at him inquiringly. She wanted to know whether he wanted her to reciprocate or whether this was just something he wanted to gift her with. He answered her question silently by walking over to the bed to retrieve her dress and helped her put it on, then her jewelry. Then he took up the brush from the vanity table and ran it through her shiny flapper's bob and smoothed it with his hands for good measure. So this was just all about her. Him tending to her, worshiping her, honoring her. She smiled with satisfaction and adoration. His final act was to kneel before her and slip her shoes on her feet. Then he gave her the once over with admiring eyes and proclaimed her gorgeous. He held the door open for her and they left the bedroom to wait with the others to leave for the club.

Everyone was assembled in the living room waiting to leave. Once they were all assembled, Gabby cleared her throat and said "Listen up, family. Quick meeting. I feel like our lives will never be the same after tonight, that this New Year's Eve might even be the last one we can all spend together. So I'd appreciate it if everyone would make a point of meeting at our table at midnight for a toast."

Gabby's voice had a note of distress, nostalgia, and even fear in it. The group seemed to pick up on the fact that she was having a moment of crisis, imagining her friends making life-altering decisions that she herself found daunting, and she wanted to try to slow down time for one night, or at last to make sure to pay tribute to the moment and not take it for granted. Everyone agreed that it was a good plan and promised to be present for a toast at midnight and to ring in the New Year together.

The night turned out to be feasibly enjoyable, which was a huge relief to them all. They were allowed a small space of dance floor near their table for their own exclusive use. It wasn't perfect because it wasn't normal or like their former lives, but as Micky had accurately quipped, they realized they weren't in Kansas anymore. Their life was now Oz and soon, once the money started rolling in, they'd be dwelling in the Emerald City — bewilderingly shiny and bright, gaudily furnished in the fanciest luxury, and utterly devoid of any set of rules that resembled the ones they had spent their lives thus far observing.

At midnight, they met at the table and the manager had provided the finest champagne for them to use for their toast. Michael stepped up to speak. "Gals, this year started out with us not knowin' y'all. Our careers were on the up, but they weren't where we wanted them to be. Now were endin' the year with partners and friends we love and cherish, and we've finally made it to the big time. Here's to gettin' our heart's desire, as Wendy says, and I look forward to seein' what the next year brings for all of us."

They all clinked glasses and said cheers or various versions of such. Now Gabby ventured her own toast. "I know we all have big plans for our lives, and I hope we'll all stay together as a family no matter what those plans are. All of you have made my life so rich, even as we've all been pretty financially poor. Let's remember the wealth that matters the most, even if you guys end up making a fortune. It's the relationships, the friendships, the lovers, the family that matter. Happy New Year, everyone. To our Monkees family."

Once again, everyone touched glasses and took another sip of champagne. Then the assembled crowd began shouting down the countdown to midnight and they joined them, everyone linking arms around each other. "Three, two, one, Happy New Year!" And then it was 1968, the start of another wild chapter of the Monkees family's life.


	12. Chapter 12

Peter was the first to move out. Then Mike bailed. The label had presented each of the guys with royalty checks with six figures printed on them, and after smelling salts had been declined and happy dances had been performed, contract extension talks were set and agreed upon. More creative control for the guys, a bigger piece of the pie, namely, takings on the stuff they weren't receiving profits from, like the t-shirts, lunchboxes, and other tchotchkes, and more importantly, the concert ticket revenues. With a six-record extension signed and sealed, after taking into account current and anticipated future earnings, it was a no-brainer to commit to leaving their shabby bachelor pad behind and move into bigger, more comfortable and grownup digs.

Davy and Micky hadn't made a move yet. Davy wasn't hot and heavy enough with Jan to move in with her, and he was still very much attached to Micky and his stabilizing presence. Micky didn't want to let Davy down and at any rate hadn't worked up the nerve yet to ask Gabby to move in to a new place with him. But a new problem presented itself. With Dawn and Wendy evacuating the apartment they shared with Gabby, she now needed to either find new roommates or a single apartment she could afford.

Micky asked Davy if he minded offering to let Gabby live at the Pad with them. Davy had an agonizing internal dilemma to manage. While he had been dating Jan, he had mostly been able to keep his feelings for Gabby stowed away in the darkest, most secret corners of his mind and heart. But he wasn't so sure about whether he could cope with her living under the same roof as him. On the other hand, if he refused to allow her to move in, he would have to come up with a logical reason that wouldn't raise suspicion or hurt Micky's feelings or cause resentment. And finally, a really awful part of him, the Davy he really didn't want to be anymore, secretly wanted her to move in so that he could be closer to her even though it was completely off-the-charts the wrong thing for all of them and setting up a situation rife with the possibility of horrific ramifications. He needed advice, but who could he tell, who could he turn to? He knew the answer as soon as he asked himself the questions. He dialed Lynda's number at work and asked her to have lunch with him.

Davy stopped by the fancy Rodeo Drive boutique to pick Lynda up for lunch and caused quite a stir, not because he was recognized as a Monkee, but because he was just so inherently handsome, debonair and charming. As they left the store, every female eye in the place and even some males followed their progress out the door.

After they had given their orders to the waitress at the overpriced café down the street where Lynda had never been able to afford to eat, she asked Davy to get down to business and tell her what was on his mind. His brow furrowed and he asked how she knew he had something particular he wanted to speak to her about. She gave him her "pull the other one" look and he sighed and smiled.

"Cahn't get anything by you, Lynda, can I? You know me too well. I guess that's why I called you. I'm in a jam and I need your advice. You've been keeping me on the straight and narrow and I trust your judgment."

"Why can't you talk to Micky about it?" Lynda asked suspiciously.

"Because the problem I'm having involves Micky. Well, more like, it affects Micky, or it could do if I let those demons locked up in me loose again."

He explained the housing situation and Micky's request to have Gabby move in. Then he took a deep breath and spilled about his feelings for Gabby, explaining that they had started to form slowly over many months. He reckoned that the start of it all was that day that he had been forced to leave her at the anti-war march on her own because she had insisted on it, the same day he had been pleading Micky's case for him to get Gabby to forgive him for the argument they'd had and to give Micky another chance. He started to see in her the same lovely, admirable, strong qualities that Micky did, and he realized that if she and Micky broke up, he would like to date her himself. But things hadn't worked out that way. She and Micky had gotten back together, but his own feelings hadn't changed, they had only grown stronger.

After listening impassively and non-judgmentally to Davy's speech, Lynda leaned back in her chair and exhaled a deep breath. "Wow, Davy, I had no idea. You've really been suffering, having to keep all this to yourself with no one to talk to about it, not to mention trying to let go of these feelings. But what about Jan?"

Davy ran his hands through his hair and pulled at it. "Don't get me wrong, Lynda. Jan's a smashing girl. I really do like her and care for her. Maybe I could even love her if I didn't have this small part of me 'eart tugging in another direction. That's why I don't want Gabby to move in. I want to stay on the path I'm walking, which is having a healthy relationship with Jan and trying to become an honorable guy worthy of her love. I cahn't help it if I'm a wee bit hung up on Gabby. I've never so much as flirted with her, and I never would. I give Jan me absolute all, and I want her and only her, except..."

"Except there's that wild, loose, hedonistic side of you that you still haven't been able to master or completely exorcise that's pulling you towards forbidden fruit. Is that it?" Lynda asked him sympathetically, not accusingly, as he would have expected.

He hung his head in shame and said "Yes, I'd say that's a fair assessment, except I do have some deep feelings for her which makes it even worse. It's like I'm a recovering alcoholic or something. I'm always going to crave that first drink, but that doesn't mean I'm going to pick it up. But I have to be smahrt. I have to stay out of places where the temptation would lead me to that first drink. That's why I wanted to keep living at the Pad with Micky. He's been a good influence on me, a pal, someone I could lean on and a good friend. Plus, I'm not ready to commit to living with Jan. It's too soon. But if I move out on me own so that Micky and Gabby can live together, then I lose me buddy who's keeping me on the straight path. What should I do?"

Lynda furrowed her brow and said "Davy, I'm going to help you in any way I can. Let me mull this over and I'll be in touch with you in the next couple of days. In the meantime, try to stall Micky and tell him you need some time to consider your options. Okay?"

Davy gulped a huge breath of air from relief. "Okay, Lynda," he exhaled. "Thank you for listening to me and for not judging me. For trying to help me. You've been the best friend I've had this last year, helping me get through me physical and helping me give up me wicked ways, and now this." He gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Davy walked her back to the store and gave a wave and a wink to all the ladies gawking at him as he left. He hoped that Lynda's status would rise in their estimation. He would do anything he could for her.

When Davy got home, he spoke to Micky about Micky's idea for Gabby to move in. "Micky, I'm not sure about what me plans are for living arrangements. I want to stay with you at the Pad. You're me best mate and you've kept me on the straight and narrow, but I think it would be hard for me to live with a chick. No offense to Gabby. I also don't know how Jan would feel about that. Could you give me a little time to think about things before you say anything about it to Gabby?"

Micky breathed a sigh of relief, like a man who had just been told the guillotine was out for repair and to come back next Tuesday. "Sure, Davy! No problem. I mean, I'm kind of nervous about even asking her about moving in. I don't know how she'll react or what she'd say. She might take offense if she thinks I'm trying to play the white knight and save her from homelessness, and she might accuse me of only wanting to live with her for convenience sake because she lost her other roommates, and that's not very romantic. You know how touchy girls can be."

Davy was flabbergasted. He'd gotten all worked up over this huge dilemma, and now Micky had lost his bottle (in Davy speak, that meant Micky had lost his courage) and was chickening out and thinking maybe he wouldn't ask Gabby to move in after all.

"Micky, mate, pal. Why did you drop this turd in the punch bowl in the first place if you didn't really want to do it? You got me all in a tizzy worrying about offending you if I said I didn't want Gabby to move in with us, and now I get the feeling you don't even want her to either!"

Micky blushed and looked abashed. "I'm sorry, Davy. It's not that I don't want to ask her to live with me, it's just that I'm not sure whether we're ready. It's not just a question of finances, and it never has been with me and Gabby. It's a question of maturity and the stability of our relationship. She thinks we're still too immature to be making such a big commitment. She's also still kind of freaked out by what Nick did to her, and she wants to make sure she can stand on her own two feet before she leans on anyone else again. To be honest, I can't see us moving in together until we've been together for at least a year or so, or pass some sort of milestone that would make her feel secure that we've really solidified our relationship."

Davy felt the weight of a thousand pounds of solid lead float off his shoulders. "So can we agree you won't ask her to move in? If you want to make me the heavy, that's okay, I don't mind. Tell her I'm still rehabbing me horndog ways and need to keep this place a boys-only clubhouse. I mean, that doesn't mean she cahn't stay over once in a while, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't have her over here too often. I'm just trying to hang on to what little stability we still have left, you know?"

Micky bobbed his head vigorously. "Yeah, I totally get it. I was saying the same thing to Gabby when we were down in Palm Springs. She called it 'homeostasis' and said it's really important for us to have while everything else in our lives is changing so fast. So this is great. How about we go catch some waves while the sun's out? Even California has Indian summer in January."

"Sounds great. You head out. I just need to make a quick call."

Davy phoned Lynda to let her know how things stood. She said she was relieved, and that her fallback plan had been to ask Robert to kick his roommate our and let Davy move in. Davy thanked her profusely for Robert's noble sacrifice, though he pointed out that that would probably cramp both Davy's and her love life, and they had a good giggle.

Meanwhile, Gabby was fretting about whether Micky was going to use her housing situation as an opportunity to push her into moving in with him, and she wasn't relishing the confrontation. Instead, she was pleasantly surprised when Micky preemptively explained to her that he had agreed to stay on at the Pad at Davy's request. He said he realized full well that they weren't ready to move in with each other, that they both needed more time to grow as individuals and as a couple, and that he was content to leave things as they were. He did, however, offer to let her stay at the Pad temporarily if her lease ran out before she could get her situation sorted, but she reassured him that that would not be necessary, as she had already located a one-bedroom apartment that she could afford. She was moving to a neighborhood in West Hollywood near the offices of _Open City_ , the newspaper she wrote for. Since she had done such a good job on covering the Monterey Pop Festival and the Frank Zappa interview for the _Rock and Rule_ issue, and was now moving in exalted music circles, the editor had asked her to cover the music scene on a more regular basis from a political angle. This would be more convenient for her to hit the clubs on the Sunset Strip and surrounding areas. 

Micky asked "Are you okay with us continuing on as we are even though the others are moving in together, my Gabby? I don't want you to think..."

She forestalled him. "Micky, my Micky, I don't think anything other than that we're being sensible and realistic, and true to ourselves. We're sticking to the plans we made, we're not letting your success and fame blow us off course, and I see it as a very good sign that you're willing to stay on the path that we've been traversing together. I feel like you're hearing me and honoring my wishes. Does that cover all the bases for you?"

Micky grinned audibly over the phone. "Yep, it sure does. So when do you move and what can I do to help?"

"Now _that's_ what I like to hear! I'm moving at the end of February. I'm on a month to month lease, and the girls paid their rent through this month. So if you and Davy could help me get settled in, that would be swell."

"You got it, babe. No sweat." There was silence for a moment. Micky had a question he wanted to ask, but he was afraid to ask it. Gabby could hear him thinking and not speaking, so she encouraged him to tell her what was on his mind.

"Well, uhm, it's just, well, I was wondering, are you going to get a dog right away, as soon as you move in on your own?"

Gabby wasn't expecting the question and didn't really see where Micky was going with it. "I don't know. I hadn't thought about it. I was too busy worrying about finding a place I could afford, I didn't even ask if they allow pets. Why are you asking?"

Micky suddenly felt shy and slightly stupid and sentimental. He wished he hadn't broached the question. He tried to brush it off with an "Oh, never mind, it's nothing," but Gabby wasn't going to let him off the hook.

"Micky, tell me. What's in your mind? What about the dog?"

Micky sighed forlornly. "Well, I know it's totally up to you, and I have no right to ask it of you, and I know you said you're feeling broody and yearning and all, but I was wondering, would you be willing to hold off on getting a dog for now and see if maybe you and I might end up being dog parents together?"

Now it was Gabby whose grin was audible over the phone. "Awww, Micky. I don't know how to tell you how moved and flattered I am that you want to be a dog parent with me. Sure I'll wait for you, or for the future, or whatever. I mean, you know, it's a big job, being a parent, and a dog child really ought to have both a mother and father." She was laughing ironically at her satirical riff on parenthood.

Micky giggled and agreed "Yeah, becoming a mommy is a big step and I'd like to be there to support you and the little one. Be there for dog chow feeds and walkies and cleaning up accidental piddles on the floor. And then you know, there's its schooling, taking it to get trained and all. That can cost some real dough, and it might be a financial burden on you, and you might be needing a partner for that as well. But at least you already have a head start. You've got the collar and leash I gave you for Christmas. So you don't mind hanging on to those for a while longer until we can pick out the pup together?"

"Nope. It will give us something to work towards, something to look forward to. It's like you said, Micky. It's okay to dream. But first we walk before we run. I've never lived on my own and that's probably enough responsibility for me for now without taking on another creature's well-being."

Micky countered "Well, except for mine!"

"Right. You're enough of a handful."

Micky changed to a seductive tone of voice. "Speaking of which, now that our tour is over, when would you like to get your next handful of me?"

"Ew, that's the worst pickup line ever, Micky!"

"Yeah, you're right. I just heard myself say it and I turned myself off. Why don't I come over and keep you company now that the girls are gone?"

"Well, they're only partly gone. They're still shuttling back and forth retrieving their gear and haunting me telling me how bad they feel leaving me behind. I swear, I wish they would just rip the Band-Aid off and be gone already! Want me to come over there?"

"No, for some reason, Davy's weirded out with having you over. I think he's feeling a bit vulnerable with the other guys gone and he's trying to cling to that whole homeostasis thing you were talking about. Let's not shake him up any more than necessary. I'll catch you the next time you say it's cool to come over to your place."

"Okay. I'll call you tomorrow and check in. 'Night, my Micky. We are one even when we're sleeping in different beds."

"That's true, my Gabby. I love you. You're just my every everything. Goodnight."

Gabby hung up the phone and pondered Davy's strange objection to her staying at the Pad. He had never had a problem with it before. She wondered whether she had done something to offend him, but as she searched her mind, she could think of nothing at all that raised a red flag. Then a fleeting memory of a comment he made once about finding the right woman that had stolen her breath at the time he uttered it floated through her mind now and she wondered again at its significance.

_'I need to find someone who's been around the block. Someone I can be meself with. Someone like you.'_

She swiftly rejected the conjecture she was brewing in her mind. She put it down to ego, misunderstanding, and the friendly affection she and Davy felt for each other that had been established when she first swooped in, determined to save him from being drafted by helping him to flunk his army physical. She decided that Micky's instincts were true as a plum bob and no doubt were correct. Davy was trying to reform himself, he was trying to become a one-woman man, and he didn't need other women around complicating his life and personal space while he was dedicating himself to Jan. She scolded herself for thinking Davy capable of such inconsiderate treachery as coveting another man's woman, and was ashamed of herself for ascribing any impure motives to him. She shoved these thoughts to the darkest, most secret corner of her mind; unlike Davy, her heart didn't enter into it.


	13. Chapter 13

The guys went into the studio and recorded their follow-up album, entitled (unimaginatively by the label) _More of the Monkees_. Once again, there was tension between the guys and TPTB. The suits wanted to milk every dollar they could out of the project, so to start with, they had insisted on the album cover including a photo of the guys posing in some seriously square clothes that they had been signed to do a cross-promotion with a big department store. It meant big bucks, but it was crassly commercial and it added nothing to their street credibility as hip musicians seeking to be the voice of their generation.

There were other factors on the downside of the ledger. TPTB had an unreasonable fetish for the gawdawful song that no Monkee would admit to having written, _The Day We Fall In Love_ , and that ended up on the album, an abomination that sent Mike into a red hot fury and didn't best please Davy, who had to sing it. Davy was further mortified when he was also forced to sing their song called _Look Out (Here Comes Tomorrow)_ about a guy dating two women and telling them both that he loves them. This was the song that had so repelled Lynda when they were dating that it had doomed their relationship almost from the start, and the Monkees had agreed to retire it at Davy's request. Predictably, it elicited a similar reaction from Jan. Davy himself was angry and humiliated, as he felt he was being pimped out by TPTB far beyond what was required as the supposed heartthrob of the group.

More importantly, however, they were still clashing with regard to the use of studio musicians and outside writers contributing material for songs. One of the saving graces for the hired talent was another star turn put in by Micky in collaboration with the team who were becoming their favorite writers, King and Goffin, on a tune called _Sometime In the Morning._ It had been a Monkees tune, but they tweaked the lyrics and arrangements and accentuated even further Micky's sweetly ethereal vocals. It was a successful collaboration that made a good song sound sublime.

There were also some improvements over their first album. Mike got to produce two more of his self-penned songs — of particular note was the song called _Mary Mary_ — a solid rock song that was catchy and memorable, and this time Peter got to sing lead on one of his tunes, a ditty about his ugly old _Auntie Grizelda_. 

Still further, there were many triumphs. Micky's infectiously danceable song _I'm A Believer_ immediately hit number 1 on the Billboard Hot 100, the album itself shot to the top of the charts, displacing their first album in the top ranking, and was certified a gold record on the Billboard Hot 200. The album would remain at the top spot for eighteen weeks. 

Along with another gold record came more royalty checks, this time with seven figures. The guys were becoming wealthy beyond anything they could ever imagine, but tension still remained as to the artistic integrity of their work, as well as the image they were projecting. Mike despised the bubblegum pop pigeonhole their music was getting shoved into, and argued that the teen heartthrob marketing wasn't helping lend any credibility to their music but rather was cramming it into that pigeonhole even tighter. He tried to stage a rebellion against the whole teen idol concept by refusing to participate in a meet and greet with a contest winner whom he was supposed to squire about town on a "dream date," until Wendy threatened to personally kick his ass back to Texas herself with steel-toed reinforced boots. Softening her approach after he cowered a bit at the prospect of her getting rough on him, she promised him that if he was a good boy and went on his "date," she'd put on her pair of "fuck me stilettos" that made her tall enough that it was possible for him to kiss her without getting a back-ache and she'd let him have his way with her while keeping her shoes on. This was a much more effective motivator and he was out the door in a flash. When he came back home, she asked him what he had for dinner and he answered "I didn't eat nuthin' sweetie. You're the main course for tonight." Wendy could only reply "Oh, my," before he had scooped her off her feet and into his arms and was striding purposefully towards the bedroom. She made a mental note to add a few more motivating articles of clothing to her wardrobe as she giggled while he made like Tarzan carrying off Jane to his jungle hideaway.

But despite Wendy's seductive efforts, when it came to the music, the guys were playing for keeps, and no amount of cajoling could prevent them from mutinying against TPTB. For their third album, they wanted total creative control, they wanted to bring in their own handpicked producer, and they wanted to forego the use of studio musicians and "play every stinkin' note ourselves," as they put it. In a meeting in which they presented their proposal for this new arrangement, one of TPTB made the mistake of letting his pinhead lawyer pop off at Mike, telling him he'd better go back and read his contract and agree to play whatever they told him to play. Mike sidled up to the guy, made a fist and punched a hole in the wall inches from the guy's head, warning him "That could have been your face, motherfucker!" and stalked out of the room in a blazing fury.

Eventually, the higher up suits from the label decided that the guys had earned the right to control their own music on the third album, which would be called Headquarters, a nod to the Monkees finally setting up shop for themselves. But in order to win this concession, they had to agree to several stipulations. First, they had to go back out on the road for an extended tour to support the second album. Second, they had to agree to the use of studio musicians on the fourth album. Third, because this was seen as a more speculative venture, their cut of the proceeds would be tied strictly to sales with no advance. Independence came at a steep price. 

A three-month tour was arranged and booked, covering not just the United States, but also a promotional tour of publicity in the UK. Once again, the guys sought to claim their own identity and agency over their lives. They told TBTB that they were sick of acting like single teens, that they were grown men who all had partners, and that they wanted to be able to bring them to the UK publicity junket or on tour with them if they so chose. The label reluctantly agreed to allow this, asking that they just continue to remain discreet and circumspect about where they took them, and that they try not to be photographed with their girls or be caught out by mobs of fans snogging them on the streets or in public in general. With a round of harrumphs and rolled eyes, they agreed.

Having won this new concession, the guys were happier now than even when they received their first royalty checks. They could go out in public with their gals and not have to skulk around or hide out at home. And now that they could afford it, the girls could quit their jobs if they wanted to and come on the road with them, or keep their jobs and just fly to whatever location took their fancy for a visit. The prospect of visiting London excited them for sure.

Dawn and Peter quickly called a family meeting to discuss the new parameters of freedom they had been given and whether this meant they could go ahead and get on with their lives now, which for them meant having a quickie wedding and immediately starting a family. 

Dawn spoke with surprising restraint, for her. "I won't remind you all how galling and humiliating it is for me to have to consult eight other people as to whether I can rent out my womb to a fetus, but I agreed to make this a group decision and I'm determined to keep my word. I realize that you've only just gotten your wings unclipped and maybe you think it's too soon to be busting out the pacifiers. So I'll ask Wendy first for her professional advice, and then everyone can have their two-penny's worth. Wendy, what say you?"

Wendy looked like she'd rather be prepping for a colonoscopy than getting ready to tell Dawn whether she had the all clear to tie Peter down as a married man and father. Because in her professional opinion, she felt it would kill his image as a desirable, fuckable teen heartthrob. 

"Well, Dawn, you know that Looney Tunes cartoon where the bulldog is all confused because the mice don't want to eat the cheese and they want the cat to eat them, but the cat doesn't want to eat the mice and he wants the dog to massacre him instead, and the dog's trying to figure it all out on an adding machine and he finally gets frustrated and he says 'It just don't add up!' Well, that's kind of how I see your situation. How can Peter be a guy who all the girls want to moon over and dream about dating or marrying someday if he's already married with a kid on the way?"

Peter jumped up and said "Alright, now let's just cut this shit. No one else gets to comment. I'm cutting this family discussion short. We've all said it's the music that matters, not the image. The Beatles are all either married or getting hitched and they're not suffering for fans or hit records. I'm sorry, everybody. I said we'd abide by the family's decision, but this is a band, not a fucking cult. I'm going to marry Dawn and have a kid and that's it. Now you can all say your peace, but you're not changing my mind. Anybody have anything they want to say?"

Gabby stepped forward, opened her arms for a hug and said " _Mazel tov_ to you both. I can't wait to become an aunt."

No one else spoke. If anyone else had any reservations, they kept them to themselves, but it seemed like there was more of a lessening of tensions, like everyone in the room was relieved. Now they could _all_ just get on with their lives and be who they were and wanted to be. Even Wendy and Mike seemed to accept this and embraced each other as if their own future just became more tangible.

A simple wedding was held before the guys went out on tour. The only people in attendance who weren't part of the Monkees family were relatives of Peter and Dawn. It had to be an extremely private affair, so instead of getting married in a religious venue, which wasn't all that appealing to either Peter or Dawn anyway, Micky and Gabby brought them to the meadow on top of the mountains in Malibu where they had knitted back together their own relationship, and there, in the field of wildflowers, Peter and Dawn spoke vows they wrote themselves and were joined as man and wife by a justice of the peace. 

They all travelled back down the mountain in a hired coach and the reception was held on the beach at the Pad. Neither Peter nor Dawn wanted anything fancier, and for some reason, their fans had not yet figured out the address of their former (and still current for Micky and Davy) abode. They had plenty of privacy there, but just in case, they set up a tent over some tables and had a catered lunch. The guys hauled the jukebox out onto the patio and they all danced on the patio and in the sand. Dawn had to restrain Peter from carrying her off to the Nooky Nook to consummate their marriage, as she felt that her relatives might miss her presence at her own wedding reception, even if Peter's were used to his flakiness and wouldn't miss him. They took a quick honeymoon to Mexico and got started on presenting the Monkees family with its first child.

The venues they were playing were now consistently in double digits of thousands for attendance. And now they were not just flying a chartered jet, it had their own Monkees logo on it. Four-star accommodations were the norm, and screaming fans who tracked down where they were staying surrounded their hotel in almost every city and town. It was the real deal in terms of the rock star lifestyle. 

But there was rancor amongst the group. They weren't getting the critical acclaim they wished for. The trade press dismissed them as bubblegum pop, and seemed to be geared towards shaming anyone over the age of fifteen from taking them seriously or buying their albums or even admitting they liked their music. They even got shit for using session musicians and songwriters, as if they had invented the practice, when everyone in the business knew that all the biggest bands used both. 

It seemed like their so-called "instant success" had ruffled a lot of feathers and spawned jealousy and skepticism in the music world about their talent and worth. Even though their peers in the music world privately approved of and liked their music, not many spoke up for them publicly. They were a hit with the public and were making money hand over fist, but they were also seen as pariahs with the people they most wanted to reach and whose approbation they most craved. The only saving grace that sustained them was that they told themselves that their next album, _Headquarters_ , would change people's opinions of them and attract a broader audience. They couldn't wait for the tour to finish and to get back into the studio to get started on it.

Just when they thought their mood couldn't get any fouler, things hit a new low. The label's music director, without their permission, released a single of a song that Mike particularly detested that it had insisted Davy record ("Why do I get all the shit jobs in this band?" Davy complained), called _A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You_ , with a song on the B-side called _She Hangs Out_ that they had been considering using for _Headquarters_ , a song that Davy really liked because it laid perfectly for his vocal skills and image. Nevertheless, using this song for the B-side was a double betrayal because not only did it rob them of one of the few songs written by an outside writer that they liked and had intended to use for their own album, but it wasn't a tune penned by one of the Monkees, as per their agreement. 

Wendy quickly flew home to Los Angeles to rip someone a new ass hole since Mike was stuck on tour and would have committed a crime that would land him in San Quentin if he were allowed to represent the group's interests. The group was unified in its stance: either pull the single from the market altogether (a practical impossibility, they knew, considering the A-Side song was already shooting up the charts), or pull the record as currently packaged from stores and replace it with a version that had a B-side song written by a Monkee. Mike suggested _The Girl I Knew Somewhere_ , which was a song he wrote that he liked but wasn't in love with and hadn't planned on including on the _Headquarters_ album. If the label didn't take action immediately, the group would leave the tour and sue the company for breach of contract. The company folded and did as the Monkees demanded. Time was of the essence and in order not to lose chart position, the switch would have to be made immediately. Ultimately, _A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You_ topped out at Number 1 on the US Cashbox chart and Number 2 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart. But because of the thoughtless, underhanded and sloppy marketing, _The Girl I Knew Somewhere_ only reached number 39. As their final bit of revenge, the Monkees demanded the firing of the music director, which was granted, since it was his errant, overinflated ego that had cost the label considerable sums of money and seriously threatened its relationship with its top-selling band. 

Wendy decided that desperate measures were necessary to get the band back on an even keel again. She gathered the rest of the Monkees family and asked who could afford the time away from their jobs to go on tour for at least a couple of days or maybe a few more to help get the guys back into a better frame of mind. She had extorted a travel subsidy from the label in penance for the fiasco with _A Little Bit Me_ , so finances wouldn't be as much of a consideration, except for lost wages if someone didn't have vacation time due to them. No one was willing to pass up the opportunity to go on tour with a rock band and live large for a few nights, and Wendy managed to smooth things over with Jan, Robert and Lynda's employers (who were reluctant to grant them so many days off in a row from their retail jobs) by offering to have the Monkees do personal appearances at their places of business after their tour in exchange for letting their employees have the time off. 

The Monkees were going to be meeting the family in Boston for a concert at the famed Boston Garden, home of the classic parquet wooden floor where the Celtics played basketball, which was covered with boards and then ice on other nights for the Bruins hockey team. They were staying at the Ritz Carlton Hotel, which overlooked the Boston Public Garden. The concert was going to be on Thursday, April 4th, and everyone flew in on the evening of Tuesday the 2nd to be sure to get rid of their jet lag in time to enjoy the concert. 

As the cab deposited them at the hotel, Gabby gazed across the street towards the Public Garden and could just make out through the darkening night that the cherry blossoms and other flowering trees were coming into bloom. She could see there were beds of flowers sticking out everywhere, but couldn't see what they were. She couldn't wait until the morrow to scurry across the street to visit with them. As an empath, she fancied that not only could she commune with animals, but with plants as well. Just as she was thinking this, she heard the sound of ducks honking in the pond in the center of the park and shivered with anticipatory delight.

The guys had commandeered an entire floor for the family, and were waiting for them in their rooms. They didn't dare meet them in the lobby for fear of tipping off the public as to their location, since the Ritz was a very stuffy, old school, snooty hotel and they worried they might be asked to leave if they caused a riot of teenage well-wishers as they had in other cities. There were security guards stationed at the elevators on the floor where the Monkees were staying. They had finally graduated to the big leagues in terms of security. Gabby wondered whether this made Micky feel safer or whether the reason for the need for it engendered its own stress. She made a note to herself to ask him.

A bell captain saw Lynda and Robert to their room, and all the other girls just ran to their men who were peeking their heads out of their respective rooms' doors in greeting. Even though Wendy had seen Mike just a few days ago, she couldn't resist performing her traditional leap into his arms. Dawn did her usual saunter into Pete's arms, tucked her head under his chin and received his kiss on the top of her head. Davy and Jan didn't have a traditional physical greeting, but he called her "Dolly" because of her unusual doll collection and when she walked up to him she wrapped her arms around his neck, he lifted his head up (since she was a few inches taller) and said his usual "Give us a kiss, Dolly." Micky and Gabby didn't have a regular or routine anything, but they had a few nicknames and a variety of ways of saying I love you. This time they embraced, nuzzled each other's necks, exchanged greetings of "My Micky" and "My Gabriella" and just stood hugging each other and rocked back and forth for a while. 

Micky whispered to Gabby "I've been missing my everything. Thank God she's here now." 

Gabby ran her hand through Micky's wild curls and gripped them like she couldn't quite believe she was really there herself. 

"Owww!" Micky yelped.

"Sorry," Gabby leaned back and apologized. "Just making sure I'm really here. Making sure we really are one. I pull, you feel it. Yep, we're one!" She laughed. Micky giggled and pulled her in again for a hug.

"Yeah, we're one. Can we both agree that we're not leaving this room tonight and I'll take you out tomorrow? I have serious needs and plans for you. Plus, room service at this place is like the best meal you've ever eaten, only you don't have to get dressed up for it. In fact, you don't have to be dressed at all." He quirked up an eyebrow at her and she grinned.

"Oh, great. I fly all the way across the country to meet Paul Revere and check out the Freedom Trail and the land of our founding fathers, and you want to keep me chained to the bed!"

Micky developed a sly look on his face that she had never seen before. "Weeeeellllll, not exactly chained up. Restrained, maybe..."

She gave him a "You didn't..." look and he returned it with a "Yep, I did" smug smile.

"Micky, what have you been up to while you've been on the road?"

"Well, actually, I just stumbled on this place today after we blew into town. There's this wild neighborhood across the park called the Combat Zone. It's basically the red light district. I confess I had a wander around and checked out a store that had some pretty interesting items for sale and I might have purchased one or two or a few." Now he was looking at the ceiling with his lips pursed and a satirically innocent expression on his face.

Gabby reached for his strong, sharp chin, the one she found so irresistible and often licked and chewed on a little when they were making love, and made him look her in the eye.

"So am I correct in assuming that this is the follow-up to the conversation we had at Christmas when I mistook your gift of a dog collar and leash for a naughty sex apparatus?"

"Winner, winner, chicken dinner!" Micky crowed. "Give the lady a prize!"

Gabby rolled her eyes. "Oh, brother. Okay, well if we're going there, then I insist on doing it with some food in my belly. So make with the room service feast because I haven't eaten since breakfast. Can I take a shower on my own before we eat, or do you need to be in on that act, too? I think maybe you ought to save your energy for whatever it is that you purchased."

Micky thought about it for a moment and then said "Good thinking. We can always take another shower later."

Gabby was now in the bathroom and stripping down and stopped to take in this little tidbit. She put her hands on her hips and said "Micky, I really hope you aren't going to get too carried away here. I insist that you don't keep me tied up to that bed the whole trip. There are ducks and flowers and trees out there that are waiting to meet me, you know!"

Micky laughed and said "I dig. Don't worry. You'll have plenty of time to have a good convo with all of them. You can tell them what an amazing, considerate, loving, exciting guy you just spent the last twelve hours making love with."

"Twelve hours???" Gabby was laughing incredulously.

Micky shrugged. "What can I say? It's lonely on the road. I've missed you. Don't worry. I won't let you end up like Dawn or Jan. You won't be walking funny when I'm done with you."

"Gee, thanks. You're a good sport."

"I know. Now get in there and do your thing. Oh, before you go in, check out this menu and tell me what you want to eat." He handed her the room service menus and she gasped at the prices.

"Jeezuz, Micky! Do you mean to tell me you guys spend this much on food on a regular basis?"

"Nah, usually we barely have time to eat because we're so oppressed by the label doing promotional activities, running from interview to promotion to contest date. So I'm sticking it to them good and proper for being such shits to us. But yeah, when we do eat, sometimes the only safe or convenient place for us to eat is in the room or suite or whatever. It's nuts, but it costs less than paying a security detail."

Gabby exhaled a large breath and just shook her head in disbelief. Micky nodded his affirmation that he knew exactly what she was thinking and feeling. "Yeah, a lot has changed. You'll see, and what you don't see, I'll tell you about, I promise. I just haven't wanted to burden you with it or worry you about it because it's not that big a deal. I'd rather you just see for yourself and let you be the judge."

Gabby walked over to him and kissed his cheek. "I understand, Micky. Thanks for your care and consideration, but I'd rather you lay things on me whenever you want to, as you're experiencing them, so that you feel like you have my support. But I trust your judgment. I just want you to know I'm here whenever you want to unload. Even if you think I won't be able to comprehend it. I'm still a sounding board and recipient of your emotions and feelings. I don't want you to be bottling things up. It's not good for you. But I'm glad I'm finally here so that I can get a feel for your new situation and learn the new vocabulary of your life."

Micky hugged her gratefully, like a drowning man gripping a life raft. "Thanks, babe. I'll keep that in mind going forward. Go ahead and have your shower after you tell me what you want to eat. And no picking out the cheapest stuff on the menu. Just eat what your tummy wants. It's hard enough being on the road without eating food that doesn't sit right with you. Don't ask me how I figured that out." He rolled his eyes and looked towards the toilet in the bathroom, then laughed.

She gave him her order and headed for the shower. As she stood beneath the spray, she tried to figure out if anything in her life had foretold where she was standing right at this moment. True, her family had been wealthy and she had stayed in nice hotels, but not a four star luxury hotel, and not in a suite and not with a bona fide Rock Star with someone else paying the expenses with _carte blanche_ to order whatever she wanted. She started to wonder what the future held and quickly clamped down on that stream of thought. Keep it in the day, do what's in front of you. That's what they'd agreed to do. It was the healthiest way to live. No use wondering what was around the next corner, particularly as she was having a hard enough time comprehending what was in front of her.

When she came out of the shower, Micky was waiting with a fluffy towel and he took infinite care in drying her off. Then she hesitated about whether to change into the sexy pajamas or the cozy ones and opted for the cozy ones, considering she would be eating first and Micky would no doubt be stripping her down immediately following dinner. Plus, it was a bit chilly in Boston, as compared to California. She shivered and Micky noticed.

"Are you cold, babe? Come here. Let me warm you up." She crawled into his open arms and snuggled under the blanket he had grabbed from the foot of the bed. He took her feet in his hands and started to warm them up. She laid against him and let him take care of her, grooming her like a monkey with her baby. This punny image made her giggle, and she shared the visual with him, eliciting a chuckle from him as well.

The food arrived and Gabby listened as Micky filled her in on the real scoop of what life on the road was like. Even though they talked every night now that he could afford the phone bills, apparently there was a lot about the lifestyle and the work that she hadn't perceived, so he filled in the nuances that had gone missing. She was pleased to note that one thing he didn't mention was any stress emanating from groupies or the fans in general. Still, she felt it important to ask him about it while she could see his face as he answered the question.

Micky gave it some thought and then said "You know, I hardly even notice the crowd when we play. The lights are so bright, it's hard to see them from my drum kit. I see them more when I'm up there doing my solo — you'll see it, it's a hoot — but I've gained a lot of confidence and I can even play to the audience and incorporate them into the act now. You'll be amazed at how much more confident I am. In terms of the fans in general, though, I'd say the thing that weirds me out is when they find out where we're staying. Sometimes they just camp out and yell at our windows for hours. And it doesn't help that Davy really digs the attention and will stick his head out the window and tip them off to exactly what floor we're staying on. And then he'll even egg Peter on and they'll hang over the windows or walk out onto a balcony and the kids will try to climb a tree or a drain pipe or something. But that's a reasonable fear, isn't it, Gabby? I mean, that's an actual safety concern, right?"

"Yes, definitely, Micky. No question about it. It's good common sense that's got your hackles raised up. Want me to give Davy a good kick in the ass, or should I let Jan do it?"

Micky squirmed with discomfort and protested "I don't know about that, Gabby. I shouldn't have someone else fighting my battles for me, particularly a chick..."

Gabby put her fork down and her eyes darkened with fury. "Micky. I'm going to try to be very kind with what I say to you next but you should not take it as a sign of my feeling any less conviction. That is the biggest load of crap and I hope you will never ever again speak that way to me. I am your best friend and partner in life, your lover and your advocate. If someone is hurting you, I'm damn well going to do something about it. If the shoe were on the other foot, you wouldn't think twice about intervening in my life. The fact that I'm a woman is totally immaterial."

Micky protested "Yeah, but when I wanted to protect you at the anti-war march, you told me you could handle yourself just fine without me and that I should step out of the way and leave you to it."

Gabby stopped to analyze and compare the two situations. "That's true, Micky, but I told you that because it was the truth. I felt I _could_ handle it without you and I didn't want your help because I didn't need it. And it certainly had nothing to do with you being a dude. That really bugs me that you brought up me being a chick. I mean, what about when you let me help you when the guys wanted to throw you to the groupies that night Clyde Wallichs came to your gig to scout you?"

"But Gabby, that's different. I _asked_ for your help that time. And you're right. It didn't matter that you were a chick because it was more a question of you having a common basis of experience to be able to speak on my behalf because of what you went through with Nick and also being attacked at the club by that guy Dan. But in this instance, you have no concept of what this is like. You can't even imagine it. And neither can Jan. It's true, I shouldn't have said that thing about you being a chick. I'm sorry. I probably should have said a girlfriend. I meant that you wouldn't be speaking as my equal advocate, you'd only be speaking up as my girlfriend who's worried about me. Same with Jan. And Davy wouldn't give credit to what either of you have to say because you'd be talking out of your asses. You haven't experienced it, you'd be talking based on blind loyalty and love. Just like I was when I tried to get you to let me go to that march with you. I had no idea what that march would be like, other than my wild fears, and you thought you knew exactly what would happen. You didn't put any stock in my fears, even though they ended up being justified. You wanted to rely on your own self and judgment. I've got to do the same now. I've got to talk to Davy myself. You see?"

Gabby listened very closely and let it all sink in, what Micky was saying and feeling. She tried hard not to take offense at his unartful way of expressing himself, and tried hard not to rationalize her own bravado about the march as being different than his situation with the groupies. She realized that he was right and that she had to let him do things his own way, just like she wanted the same from him.

"You're right, Micky. Not as articulate as I'd have wished you to be at first, but you've carried your point and I can totally see it. I can see why you want to stand on your own and I support you. My only question for you is, will you actually do it? Will you stand up and say something to Davy? Because if you won't, then all your logic and well-reasoned arguments doesn't add up to much to improve your life. That's all I want for you. For your situation to get better. So definitely do go your own way on this. But as my mother would say, either shit or get off the pot." She paused a beat and then cracked a smile at him and winked.

He broke into a smile of his own and admitted "Fair point. Thanks for calling my attention to that minor detail."

Gabby sank back against the headboard of their canopy bed and laid herself out like another banquet for Micky to feast on. "So, Mickster, are you going to show me what you bought on your licentious shopping spree?"

Micky's eyes lit up like they were back to Christmas morning. "Well, first of all, you'll be glad to know that you are receiving some new clothes." He reached for a bag about the size of a paperback novel.

Gabby saw the size of the package and said dubiously, "Mhhmm. I'm sure there's a gorgeous gown, stockings and leather go-go boots that I can wear to your gigs in that teeny tiny bag, right?"

Micky guffawed and handed it to her. He steered her towards the bathroom and told her to go change into her new "outfit."

When she came out of the bathroom, she was wearing a black bra and panties. The bra had two panels. The main cup on each side partially covered her breasts, just barely containing her mounds and skimming her nipples. The other part of the bra was a velvet ribbon strap that enclosed the inner part of her breast with a triangle frame, extending from the shoulder strap to the center of the band near her sternum. Her breasts protruded from the frame like lush, ripe peaches waiting to be plucked and eaten. The panties were normal except that there was a slit up the crotch.

Micky led her gently over to the bed and laid her down, sitting down next to her and taking both her hands in his. He leveled his breath so that they were breathing at the same pace and staring at each other's eyes. He had a gentle, kind look in those eyes. Not wolfish, not hungry, not predatory, not even particularly sexual. He didn't want her to panic or worry that they would be straying into Nick territory.

"Do you trust me?"

Gabby nodded.

"Are you okay with us doing this?"

"Depends on what _this_ is. How about you show me what's coming up and ask me to consent as we go along?"

Micky nodded vigorously and smiled. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

"When we do something new, Micky, I always ask you whether you've done it before. That's not out of jealousy, as you know, it's usually just so I know where both our heads are at. But this time it's also so I know whether you have any experience at this. So I'm going to ask you, have you done this before?"

Micky shook his head no. "I haven't done anything wild or out there with anyone but you. I guess you could say that my sex life was pretty vanilla before I met you."

"Apart from the tutti fruttiness of you playing musical chairs every weekend?" Gabby's tone was archly playful.

"Oh, right, except for that," Micky laughed. "But I waited for all the best stuff to experience with you. Only you, my Gabriella." Micky suddenly was very earnest and tried to convey how important it was for her to realize how special she was and that he was no old hand at any of this way out sexual adventure.

"So just to be clear, my Micky, this is your fantasy, and I need you to narrate it for me like you always do. I need to know what's going through your mind, what your intention is. I care about that more about that than anything — your intention."

Micky nodded again. "Yes, always, my Gabby. Usually I'm asking you what you want or you're asking me what I want. Tonight, I'm going to just tell you what I want, so that's the first thing that's different. Okay?"

"Okay."

"So first, I _want_ you to give me permission to take my clothes off."

Gabby looked bewildered. She thought Micky was in domination mode. "I don't get it, Micky. Why do you need my permission?"

"Because you are the Queen of the Night, and you have brought me here to give you as much pleasure as it is in my power to give you. I'll be following your instructions and guidance. I'll make suggestions, but you'll have to give me permission and my final orders before I can do anything, because you're the Queen of the Night. You see?"

"So if I'm the Queen of the Night, then who are you?"

"I don't know. Who am I?"

Gabby gave it some thought. "You're the Prince of Pleasure."

Micky grinned broadly. "I reeeeeaaaaallllllyyyyyy like that, my Queen. May I take my clothes off?"

"Yes, please do, my Prince."

Micky slipped out of his clothes with no fanfare or drama, just quiet dispatch. He sat down next to Gabby and asked "Is it okay if I touch you, without asking?"

"Yes, I would like you to make your home in my body."

Micky didn't touch her anywhere erotic, though. He ran his hand over her cheek with the back of his fingers, then down her neck and throat and trailing down her breastbone. He flattened his palm over her heart and felt for her heartbeat.

"I can feel your heart beating. How I wish it were beating for me."

"My Prince, my whole heart and soul are for you and you alone. You must know and believe that. I could not allow you to be this close to me if it were otherwise. I could not trust you as I do if I didn't love you this deeply."

"You love me, my Queen?"

"Yes, my Prince. With every fiber of my being. On this night, I'm handing over to you my heart, body and soul. Take good care of all of them."

"I will, my Queen. What would you like me to do for you?"

"I like to receive gifts, and I want to express my appreciation for these fine raiments. Please approach me so that I may show you just how much I appreciate them."

Micky leaned in towards her and offered her his lips, which she kissed gently, then took hold of with her teeth and began to nibble and suck. She allowed Micky to take over the kiss and make it more passionate.

She pulled out of the kiss and struggled to recompose herself. "I understand you went shopping at a most extraordinary emporium. I would like to see what you purchased. Please show me."

Micky reached for another bag and pulled out some colorful scarves of slippery, soft material, which he dragged one at a time over the length of Gabby's body from chest to foot. There were four. Then he pulled out a stick that had a fluffy poof attached to the end, resembling a toy Gabby's next door neighbor used to play with her cat. Or pussy, she joked inwardly.

"Are you pleased with my purchases, my Queen?"

"I would say intrigued, my Prince. Intrigued and starting to anticipate pleasure. Will you please show me what you intend to do with those newly acquired items?"

"Yes, I'd love to. So I told you I was going to tell you what I want. I want to attach these scarves to various parts or your body so that they can't move, and then apply my touch to various other parts of your body. I think the result will be heightened pleasure for you. If that's not the case, I want you to tell me right away so that I can loosen the scarves and you can either free yourself or just leave them where they are and pretend they're still restraining you. Can I do that, my Queen?"

"Yes, my Prince. You may do that. But I would like to know how I can notify you of my wish to be released."

Micky mulled it over for a second and then said "How about if we keep it simple and you say the magic phrase 'Release me, my Prince,' and it shall be done?"

Gabby giggled and said "That sounds sensible. Please go ahead. I'm ready."

Micky picked up a scarf and placed it in Gabby's hands so that she could examine it and familiarize herself with it. She handed it back to him and nodded her consent. Then he tied it loosely around her left wrist and looped it around the post of the canopy bed. It had plenty of slack but she was somewhat constrained in her movement. Then he repeated the same with the other arm, making sure to first hand her the scarf so that she could feel it and be comfortable with it. He didn't reach for the other scarves. He just left them sitting on the bed. Instead, he began to touch her torso in random places and allow her to squirm and figure out what her range of motion was.

He let his fingers play over her breasts, tracing the lines of her most unusual bra. She found it fascinating to watch him manipulate her flesh as it poked out the window formed by the ribbon strap and the cup. Micky mischievously pulled the cup down, located her nipple and ran his finger over it.

Then he took up the stick with the poofball on it and ran it over her breasts, which made her squeal with delight and giggle, as it tickled a bit. But when he pulled aside the cup of the bra and applied it straight to her nipple, she hissed with a deeper pleasure and writhed and moaned. He repeated it on the other nipple. Then he ran the fluff over her belly and trailed it down towards her coochie before veering off over to her thighs and calves. He detoured around her hips and lifted her legs to reach her buttocks.

"Want more, my Queen?"

"Yes, yes, yes, my Prince."

"Want it with or without your legs restrained?"

Gabby gave it some thought. It already felt much different, not being able to move her arms, more exciting, more daring, and her skin felt more sensitive and alive. Add to that the presence of the strange lingerie and her whole body was in overdrive. Was she able to give over trust in exchange for what probably would be more pleasure? Could she move past any doubts, fears, haunting memories, conventional inhibitions? She decided the answer was yes.

"With the restraints. One at a time. My Prince."

"As you wish, my Queen."

Micky took one of the two remaining scarves and ran it along the length of her body, from sternum to toes. He took her left ankle in his hand and kissed her foot, then tied the scarf around it and attached it to the bed post. It was barely attached since her legs were short and a long distance away from it. Then he touched her breasts again with just her one leg restrained, allowing her to grow accustomed to the sensation. He looked to her for approval to restrain the other leg. He caught her eye and she nodded her approval to attach the other scarf. He repeated the process a final time, draping the scarf over her middle and dragging it down to her foot, using it to tickle her ever so slightly so that when she tried to move as she laughed, she could perceive once more the limits of her range of movement. He looked to her one more time, stopped and waited for her to signal consent once more. She nodded again and he tied the other foot to the bedpost. 

Micky took his hand and placed it over Gabby's heart again. He could feel it hammering in her chest. "My Queen, your heart is beating hard. Is it beating for love or fear?"

"For love and excitement, my Prince," Gabby replied.

Micky looked relieved and released a sigh of breath.

"Now make with the seduction, my Prince, before I lose the circulation in my limbs or I pass out from anticipation," Gabby joked.

"Your wish is my command, Your Majesty." He descended upon her lips and mastered them, owned them, leaving her breathless and frenzied. "I love you, I've missed you, I need you so much, my Queen Gabriella." Down his mouth moved to her breasts, but he didn't remove the bra. He only worked around it, pulling the cup aside so he could suck her nipple and pinch it, licking the flesh between the ribbon and the cup and squeezing it as it protruded from its boundaries. The continued presence of the clothes made the skin contained within them more sensitive. The restraints and her inability to move her arms freely also enhanced all the sensations she felt in her torso. 

Micky now turned up the heat by squeezing both breasts and alternating the attention he gave them quickly between the two. This made the effect of the restraints even more heightened and Gabby gasped at the pleasure she was experiencing. Micky noticed and smiled a bit wickedly. 

"Good?"

"Uh huh. Good, so good," she managed to mumble.

"Ready for more?"

"More?" She asked the question hazily, not really following his train of thought.

"Can I touch you in other places, my Queen?"

"Oh, yes, I beg of you my Prince, please do, or I'll lose my mind."

"Good. I want to check out those groovy panties, uh, my Queen," said Micky, realizing he was dropping out of character. This made Gabby giggle. 

Micky settled his body between Gabby's legs and parted them wider. He took his finger and tentatively ran it along the slit in the crotch of the panties, making no contact at all with her skin. She looked disappointed and a bit frustrated and frowned at him. 

"Have I displeased you, my Queen?" Micky flirted innocently.

"Yes, my impudent Prince. You are trying my patience and teasing me."

"I'm so sorry, Your Majesty. Perhaps you should tell me what you want so that I don't disappoint you. I want you to be absolutely satisfied."

"I want you to live out your fantasy, my Prince. I want you to make me feel as good as you think these _fakakta_ scarves can make me feel. I want the full experience because who knows whether we'll ever find ourselves doing this ever again, you get me?"

"I gotcha Queenie. Let's do this for real now. It's just like Cros says, you're a whole lotta woman." He winked and got down to business.

Now he was a heat-seeking missile, zeroing in on Gabby's flesh between the slit in the panties. He parted the cloth and let his tongue roam free, licking and sucking and poking inside her. Again, Gabby felt that the framing provided by the cloth made everything it surrounded hypersensitive, and her inability to squirm and express fully the sensations her body was feeling amplified her level of sensitivity even more. She felt like all her senses were short circuiting and she was losing them one at a time. Her vision was getting blurry and hazy, so she just closed her eyes so that she could focus more intensely on her sense of touch. With her eyes closed, she could hear the sounds of Micky lapping at her flesh, and the noise sounded dirty and delicious and erotic, and drove her crazy. This made her bite her tongue, which brought a taste of coppery blood to her mouth. Her breathing became erratic and hoarse and she became thirsty, and her rasping breath and cries as her orgasm approached sounded foreign to her. She clutched the scarf for ballast to steady herself as Micky lashed away at her making her body shake as wave upon wave of pleasure unleashed itself on her. Her feet strained against the scarves and she felt like she was floating in a pool of water as she had no traction at all there. This made her whole body buzz and lose all sense of equilibrium, and in a way, it was like flying, only she was flying on her back. Micky stayed with her through her orgasm and only stilled his tongue when she began to whimper and twitch away from him indicating she was too sensitive now to be touched. He switched to caressing her all over with the flat of his hands as she moaned and purred and sighed.

Micky sat with Gabby for a few minutes this way as she regained each of her senses one by one. She opened her eyes and asked Micky for some water. He reached for one of the scarves to begin to untie it and she stopped him.

"My Prince, I asked for water, not for you to untie me." She gave him a level, serious gaze, with which he returned a surprised, then pleased one.

"Yes, my Queen. Let me get you some water." He brought a glass of water to her lips and gently cradled her head to help her take a sip. She thanked him and then laid back and sighed contentedly.

Micky asked her "What is your will now, my Queen?"

"Oh no, my Prince. You said you were going to ask me for what you wanted. No, that's not right. You said you were going to tell me what you wanted. So tell me what you want, my Prince. If I like what I hear, you shall have it."

Micky responded "I'm a man of simple tastes, my Queen, I'd like to make love to you."

"With or without me in these restraints?"

"I confess it would blow my mind to leave the restraints on and try it that way, my Queen."

"Then I shall grant your request. But you shall grant one of mine first."

"Yes, my Queen?"

"I like how you feel when you are wet and cold inside of me. I'd like you to approach me very carefully and allow me to lick you before you make love to me. Be careful not to choke me, Micky."

"Right. Okay. Good point. Be verbal if you need to warn me. Or bite my dick off if necessary." This lightened the moment and they both started to laugh.

Micky didn't approach Gabby from the front. He thought that would be too intimidating and daunting. He moved in from the side and let her tongue him like she was playing a flute. She thought this was not only considerate and creative but entertaining and began to whistle a tune on his dick. They started to laugh again. Even in the most bizarre and fraught circumstances, love, fun and trust were present. When she was satisfied that Micky was lubricated with her saliva, she nodded at him to go ahead and do whatever else he wanted to do.

He did as he always did when they were doing something out there with sex. He began with loving, comforting caresses and kisses. He made professions of love to her and sought hers in return. Only when he was certain that their bond was first and foremost in their minds did he proceed. He kissed her mouth until her lips felt swollen with loving. Then he nuzzled and licked her neck and chest and paid tribute to her breasts and narrated just how gorgeous and desirable she looked in her sexy new bra and exactly why he thought so. He made love bites down her belly, which stunned her since he'd never done it before. After the first one, he asked is that okay and she gasped yes and asked for more everywhere it wouldn't show, much to his surprise. "Why yes now?" he inquired, curiously. "The restraints," she gasped. "They make it zing." He obliged. He gave her love bites inside her thighs and even raised her hips and put them on her butt.

Finally, he could hold back no longer. He came back up to her face, gave her another chance to lick his dick, then plunged himself into her. Rather than pressing down on her, which he thought might scare her, he took hold of the headboard, thus taking his own arms out of commission and used only his hips to fuck her. His relative weightlessness on her and her ability to watch him enter and withdraw in her allowed her to be a voyeur in his plundering of her, adding yet another layer of eroticism to the mix. Only when he was seconds away from climax did he move his hands down to either side of her and bear down on the bed, but he still left space between their bodies to allow her to feel safer. He cried out his satisfaction and she gave him a Queenly version of her cheerleading. "Yes, my Prince, come inside me and join us as one. That's it. That's it."

He held himself aloft her, not wanting to bring his weight down upon her while she was still restrained. As soon as he was able, he withdrew and began to remove the scarves slowly and in the reverse of how they had been applied, with the dragging motions across the length of her body one at a time. She was surprised to find herself mourning their loss. They gave her a strange sense of being held secure and in place, tethered to reality just enough so that she didn't lose her mind to the ecstasy that Micky had given her. She shared these thoughts with him and his eyes widened with amazement and delight.

"Far out! I didn't expect that to be your response at all, did you?

"No, I'm really upended by this whole thing. I sort of entered the process thinking I was just being a good sport indulging a whim of yours, but I found myself getting swept up in it. I think the key, as always, was the fantasy that we constructed, plus the love and respect that we share for each other. That makes everything we do a spiritual experience, not just a bit of fun, even when it _is_ fun. It gives it more depth. I think even if you had done this with a groupie, you probably wouldn't have experienced it the same way."

Micky nodded and said "Yeah, that's probably true, and if I'd have done it with one of them, I most likely would never have done it with you because I wouldn't want that association to taint what we have. I think that's why Davy's having such a hard time now with getting his love life on track. He's just done too much and gotten too far down in the gutter. He came home once from a wild night and he looked so shaken and told me he felt sick to his stomach at what he had done. He looked a wreck, a shell of a man. It made me thank all I believe in that I never went that far."

Gabby was stunned at hearing this information about Davy, and her heart bled for him. She was so invested in him moving forward with his life, be it with Jan or another woman he felt he could love. Not because he was an abstract object lesson about the dangers of promiscuity or what could have happened to Micky if she hadn't come along and convinced him to change his own wicked ways, but because she really cared about Davy as a human being and as a friend.

"Wow, that explains a lot. He's been such a tortured soul. I can see now why he took it so hard when he heard about what happened to me when Nick abused me. He had visited some dens of iniquity and seen things he wished he hadn't, just like me. Things that couldn't be unseen, but in Davy's case, he had been a willing participant, or perhaps even a perpetrator. I really hope he's finding some joy with Jan. It's hard to tell."

Micky shrugged his shoulders and said "Yeah, he's a dark horse. But I'll tell you what, he's never dated the same chick for this long for the whole time I've known him, so that's a good sign."

Mick gave Gabby a funny look now and inquired "How did we go from us finishing making love and me untying you to discussing Davy's love life? I'm not done worshiping you, my Queen. I need to kiss you and hold you and hear your thoughts about what you just experienced."

Gabby wrinkled her brow and agreed "Yeah, sorry, I'm not sure how we got off track like that. How about we take a royal bath and continue our worship session in there?"

Micky reached for Gabby's hand to raise her up for a hug and said "I will draw you a bath scented with sweet bubbles and I want to hear all about what you felt and I want to tell you what it was like for me. Making love is the best part, but the next best part is talking about it afterwards. Think of it, if you will, as the post-game show after the Super Bowl."

Gabby giggled at his sports metaphor and countered with her own. "More like the Sex Olympics — gymnastics competition."

They embraced and made their way to the bathroom to have their bath and round out their activities with what mattered every bit as much to them as an orgasm — the meeting of the minds and communication.

After their bath was done, they laid down to go to sleep, with Gabby in her usual position on her side and Micky on his back, Gabby's thigh slung over his and curled up, one of her breasts resting on his belly, him stroking it with is free hand while his other arm was tucked around her.

"I've missed you so much, Gabby. To have you here, not just for the concert, but just in this bed, right now, to sleep with and be normal with, that's everything to me. You are my everything, when the world is topsy turvy and has gone completely bonkers."

Micky had no idea how prescient this sentiment was, and how desperately they would cling to each other less than 48 hours later.


	14. Chapter 14

Morning arrived and surprisingly, even though it was three hours earlier for Gabby, whose body was still on west coast time, she was up early and anxious to get out and explore. She pried Micky out of bed and refused to let him order room service breakfast.

"Nope, Micky, I am not going to wait a minute longer to see what's out that front door! So get the lead out, Mister. Besides, I'm sure there must be some way for us to grab breakfast and a cup of coffee without all of the city's teenagers figuring out who you are. Just wear a pair of shades."

Micky shrugged his shoulders and said "Okay, Gabby. We'll do it your way." He knew she'd have to learn things the hard way, like he did.

They took the elevator down to the lobby and snuck out the side entrance. Gabby yanked Micky towards the park she had spotted, the Boston Public Garden, and as they got across the street, she gasped at its beauty and picturesque charm. She had not done any traveling in her life, other than inside of the state of California, so she was very excited to be seeing new sights and scenes.

The park was surrounded by tall iron fencing and was a green oasis of nature plonked down in the middle of a bustling city environment, a smaller version of New York City's Central Park. In the middle, there was a lagoon traversed by a small extension bridge, around which you could ride on pedal boats shaped like swans driven by young people with lots of energy, calves of steel and funny accents. She made a mental note not to leave town before taking a ride on a swan boat. 

But what she really wanted to do was to check out the trees, flowers and critters who made the park their home. The cherry trees were bursting with pink blooms and had trunks of dark reddish brown, smooth bark punctuated with striations . She approached one with particularly fine, wide swaths of smooth bark and ran her hand over its velvety surface, bent down towards it and kissed it affectionately. Micky gave her a nonplussed, bemused look, not understanding the why or wherefore of her action. She answered his unspoken question.

"It's the most handsome tree I've ever met and I wanted to pay it proper tribute. Don't be jealous or anything. It was a platonic kiss. Kind of how I feel about the rest of your bandmates. They're all handsome and talented and I love them all, but I only have eyes for you. But that tree just deserved to be shown just how special it is, you know?"

Micky cocked his head, gave this some thought, and said "Right. Makes sense, inasmuch as it makes sense to ascribe human attributes to trees. I can live with you showing affection to that tree. Just don't give it your phone number or anything." He winked at her and pulled her away.

They walked towards the bridge and now Gabby could make out what the flowers were that had been planted in the flowerbeds. They were extremely tall tulips in many colors and shapes. Red, yellow, white, orange, pink and just a few deep, dark purple ones that were almost black. Gabby dashed over to the dark ones and ooohed and aaahed.

"Oh, I love these the most. Let's see what the sign says, it has a name." She bent down to read the tag on a stick in the soil next to the flowerbed and jumped back with surprise. "Oh, Micky, guess what these are called? It says they're called 'Queen of Night!' Can you believe it? That's amazing!"

Micky had a look at the tag, then stood up and gazed at Gabby, ran his hand over her brown, shiny hair and said "They're beautiful, but you're by far the lovelier Queen." He pressed a kiss to her hair and stroked it again, then threw his arm around her and they continued to make a circuit around the park.

As they approached the lagoon, a flock of geese approached them, apparently on the hunt for breadcrumbs or other breakfast handouts. They weren't at all shy and seemed annoyed that the humans had nothing to offer them. Gabby apologized for coming empty-handed and promised not to get caught short next time. They stood at the water's edge as two white swans glided past them. They too seemed to be in search of breakfast, dipping their heads below the surface of the water while their tail feathers twitched back and forth comically and their brown feet flapped as they resurfaced.

They crossed the park and ended up on a narrow, charming street called Charles Street at the flat of Beacon Hill. They found a café to sit at and ordered some breakfast. While they were waiting, Gabby heard a strange noise over her shoulder. It was like a gurgling sound, or maybe a gasp. She wondered if someone was having a heart attack or choking on their food, so her eyes flew in that direction. To her dismay, she saw a young woman of probably fifteen years of age turned around in the booth she was sitting in, staring at her and Micky. Then her three other girlfriends joined her and they looked like meerkats standing guard on a hill. Suddenly, more eyes were upon them, and then people began to hum with chatter.

Micky had picked up a newspaper on his way in and now raised it up to shield his face, leaving Gabby feeling like she was sitting at the table on her own. Then she saw him peep around the side of the _Boston Globe_ and say "I tried to warn you..."

Before she had time to respond, people began edging towards their table, most of them with something in their hands to be signed, some of them with cameras aloft. The first to reach them was a mother and her two kids, probably aged nine and eleven.

"Excuse me, aren't you one of those Monkees? My kids made me buy your albums and wouldn't let me off the hook until they had both of them. They just loooooove your music! Can they take a picture with you?"

Just as Micky was about to respond, the waitress came by their table with their breakfast. They both looked hungrily at their food, then guiltily at the fans and Micky politely responded "Yes, I'm Micky Dolenz, I'm the drummer from the Monkees. I'm in town for a concert we're holding tomorrow night at the Boston Garden."

The mother didn't take the hint that he'd really love to be eating his hot breakfast while it was still hot and raised her camera beseechingly towards Gabby. "Could this young lady take a photo of us?"

Micky kept a smile plastered on his face, didn't dare look down at his food, and said "Sure, I guess that would be okay. Gabby, would you mind?"

Gabby tried to keep her resentment and annoyance out of her voice and said "I can do that." She wasn't pissed at Micky. She was pissed at the woman for having no consideration for Micky's privacy or need to eat.

Once one person got their photo taken, everyone else wanted one. Most of the people in the café were tourists with cameras at the ready, Boston being a very touristy town, and there ended up being a long assembly line of folks who wanted photos and/or autographs. Micky was very patient, polite, even jovial and personable. He kept a sense of humor, and was very kind particularly to the young kids who didn't know better not to interrupt a person's meal and who no doubt comprised a large portion of the Monkees' fan base. He was a little less outgoing with the flirty, sassy fifteen-year-old girls from the booth across the way who had started the whole kerfuffle, but this was probably leftover trauma from him being groped at a gig one night by a girl who was almost the same age.

By the time everyone who was already in the café had been satisfied, Gabby could see that as more people entered, instead of attending to their menus and ordering food, they were making a beeline to their table to line up for whatever it was that was attracting everyone else. She realized that Micky could end up getting stuck there all day and that it was a no-win situation. She spoke to the waitress and asked her to make up a fresh order of their meals and box them to go. When they were ready, they stood up, said goodbye to everyone and took off.

Micky didn't say a word. He didn't need to. Gabby firmly took his hand and led him down a side street past colonial-era brownstones, making sure they weren't being followed. Then they took a circuitous route and came out again on the street near the public garden, but this time they crossed over to the Boston Common and found a spot under a gigantic oak tree to sit and eat in peace. Micky smiled gratefully at Gabby, popped open the box with his breakfast and took a bite, chewing with satisfied bliss and relief.

"Ahhh, this is better than sitting in a stuffy old café anyway, right Gabby?"

"You know it, my Micky."

They sipped their coffee and looked up at the enormous trees that were just regaining their leaves, which were a fresh shade of bright green that reminded Gabby of Granny Smith apples. Gabby commented offhandedly "You know, I was reading a tour guide and it said that they used to graze cattle here on the Boston Common."

Micky replied "And now it's used for feeding Monkees as well."

"Remember when we went to Carmel and I told you what a nuisance I found it when traveling to have to feed and water and house myself? Not to mention finding bathrooms? What we just went through makes me think back to that comment and feel ashamed for the _kvetching_ I did. Your basic everyday life tasks are impossible to accomplish! Just finding a safe place to eat is ridiculous! How has that been affecting you, Micky?"

Micky sighed and didn't try to disguise his dismay. "Well, obviously, it's not ideal. But I tell myself it's probably not going to last forever. We're the hot thing now, but someday sooner or later, we're going to be yesterday's news. That's just how this business is. So I figure, as long as I'm not in any danger, it's worth the sacrifice. And I see those people as not just fans, but as customers, supporters and patrons. They've made me wealthy, sure, but they've also allowed me to make my dreams come true. I'm living the life I wanted to, I'm making my music. I'm traveling all over the country and soon we'll be traveling internationally. I'm going to get to move out of the Pad someday soon and have the life and future I want, hopefully with you. I owe that all to them. So if I'm put to minor inconveniences and miss some hot breakfasts, that's okay. I think about my cousin George and all the things he missed out on in his life because he took a job fighting for his country and died doing it. This isn't anything like the sacrifice he made. It puts it in perspective, you know? Keeps me humble."

Gabby scooted over closer to Micky and laid her head down on his shoulder. "You're very wise, Micky. I think you've got a good attitude and yes, the right perspective. There's a lot of entitlement out there in the music world, or among celebrities in general. I didn't see much of it at Monterey, but now that I'm covering that beat regularly for work, I'm coming across people who don't seem to appreciate what they've got or realize how ephemeral success is or what it means. I hope all of you guys will adopt that attitude."

Micky shook his head doubtfully. "I don't know about that, Gabby. I'm already seeing some changes I don't like."

Gabby was stunned. "What do you mean? With the Monkees as a band, or someone in particular."

Micky paused and said "Gabby, I know you have your girl code and you're true to your friends. We've talked about it in the past and previously you've said that you needed to put them above me, and I've been okay with that. But if I talk about internal band matters with you, it's as my lover and best friend, and that has to take precedence over your girl code and your girlfriends, particularly as they're dating and/or married to my bandmates. So if you want me to talk to you about this, you have to swear you'll keep my confidences, and what's more, that you won't go rogue and try intervening on my behalf like you were suggesting you'd do with Davy last night. If we can agree on those terms, I'll spill. If not, it's totally fine and no hurt feelings and I totally understand and respect your position. How do you want to handle this?"

Gabby didn't have to think about it for a second. "Micky, it's no contest. When you and I had this conversation the last time, we'd barely been dating for a month, and we'd just made love for the first time the day before. Our lives have become intertwined and linked inextricably now and always will be unless we break up. My first loyalty is to you now. I'm sure there are things that the other girls aren't telling me, and I wouldn't expect them to, now that they're in so deep with your friends. So yes, you can trust me to not repeat anything you say to me in confidence. If I feel like I need someone to talk about it with, though, can I ask your permission?"

Micky nodded "Sure, that's fair, but what I'm about to tell you now is not in that category. It's strictly between you and me, okay?"

Gabby nodded.

Micky took a breath and gathered his thoughts. "Okay, changes in the band. First and foremost, and probably always it's been this way but the stakes were never this high, it's Mike. He's always been the leader and a bit of a control freak. We've tolerated it and even benefited from it and relied on it from time to time. But now it's moving in a direction I don't like. He's moving pieces on the chessboard, but a lot of the moves he's making seem to be more for his sole benefit and not for the good of the group as a whole. You may not realize it, but if you write a song and it makes it onto the album, you make a hell of a lot more money. So he's got it written into the _band's_ contract that he gets at least two songs per album. But that money doesn't go to the band, it goes right into his pocket.

"Also, he's started making creative decisions that reflect his own musical tastes and biases that clash with or ignore the rest of our opinions and talents, even though Wendy did her best to try and break him of that. Now we all regard him as something of a musical genius, but he's squashing down the other talent in this band, and he's getting more and more brutal and dictatorial as he does it. He's getting downright abusive with Peter, probably because he knows that Peter won't fight back, it's just not in his nature. But hell, Gabby, Peter is a classically trained musician and he belittles Peter's talent, even on things that he knows Peter has superior knowledge about. He's wearing him down psychologically so that he can get his way, so that Pete will just throw in the towel and go along with whatever Mike wants. Mike can't even sight-read music and the rest of us can and he's lord high and mighty on matters of timing and composition all of a sudden? It's just one big mindfuck on his part. A way of putting us all in our place.

"Then there's this thing I just figured out recently before we left for the tour. He's been booking studio time to work on his own stuff, his own tunes, but they're not Monkees tunes. They don't fit our style and even if they were speculative things he wanted to try to shoehorn in to one of our albums, that cover story won't wash because he's hiring outside studio musicians and not telling us about the sessions or the songs. He's doing things on his own, like he's either planning an exit strategy or maybe a solo career to work in tandem, or maybe these are songs he's planning on using once he takes over the Monkees completely. I just don't know exactly what his end game is, but I know he's up to something no good. I'm pretty sure Wendy doesn't know either, because I seriously doubt she'd approve of this, unless he's changing her as well and has convinced her that this is better for her benefit in the long run as well. It's totally disloyal to the group, and he's using Monkees funding to pay for these secret sessions, only nobody from the label has figured it out yet. But if they do, shit, they could end up blowing a gasket and taking it out on all our hides."

Gabby was flabbergasted. Michael? Michael a traitor, a tyrant, a browbeating abuser like Nick, trying to break Peter's spirit, a selfish, duplicitous thief? With Wendy as a possible accomplice? There had to be more nuances to all of this, but Gabby's first reaction was visceral and that's what passed through her mind and heart and she told Micky so. He just listened and nodded his head in affirmation of her feelings.

"So I know you're saying there's nothing I can do to be of help, and presumably if Wendy doesn't know about this, then she can't help, and if she's in on it, then we're really screwed. I wonder if Pete has told Dawn."

Micky shook his head and shrugged "Hard to say, but my money is on him having said nothing. Dawn's the type of person who would have made her feelings known pretty quickly and loudly if she thought someone was dumping on her man."

Gabby chuckled bitterly and said "Damn straight. So are you going to do anything about this, Micky, or just let it ride?"

Micky eyed her with gentle compassion. "I sometimes wonder how hard it must be to be you, to see a fight around every corner. Not everything is a battle to be waged, Gabby. Sometimes life just comes at you and throws you something you don't like and you don't fight it because you can't win and the fallout for trying to win it is too immense. Isn't that why we want to get the hell out of Vietnam? Not every battle needs to be fought or can be won. This is going to unfold exactly as Mike dictates it because he is just too fucked up to do anything otherwise. And the rest of us are going to end up getting the short end of the stick. Or maybe worse. Maybe all four of us are going to be the worse for the fact that Mike can't control his impulses and self-destructive tendencies.

"The truth is, it isn't even just Mike that has issues. We all do. It's four egos at play here, clashing and vying for primacy. Peter is undoubtedly the best musician, but he sucks as a singer, though the same could be said for Dylan. They both are blind to that fact. Davy's got certain talents and lacks others, but if you ask him he's the most talented of all of us. I'm told I am a mediocre musician despite the fact that I've been trained as a classical guitarist since I was a kid and learned to play the drums almost cold because this band already had enough guitar players, plus I play the piano. I think I'm a more than competent musician, but what the fuck do I know? Does it take real skill and genius to learn drums quickly to play them passably? Does it take real talent to play drums pretty well while singing lead on 75% of our songs, which is pretty much unprecedented in any other group these days? Is my voice really all that good just because I can sing a broad range of keys and styles, but I can't sing in vibrato and falsetto like Mike (which he likes to rub in like a salty wound all the time)? So this is like that movie _Rashomon_ , where I might be the classic unreliable narrator. But I'll tell you this, there's plenty of dysfunction to go around and I don't want to lay all our problems at Mike's door."

"How are the other guys reacting to all this?"

"It's a mixed bag. Peter mostly sulks, but once in a while he'll reach his limit and pop off. He even hit Davy once. He claims Davy hit him first, but Davy says Peter hit him after Davy insulted his hippie lifestyle. I've never been able to get to the bottom of it. Again with the _Rashomon_ movie theme, you get a different story depending upon who you ask.

"And Davy's got some other issue that's been sticking in his craw for ages that he absolutely will not talk to me about no matter what because he says it would hurt me and he can't do that to his best mate. I have no idea what he's talking about, but it's bugging the shit out of me that maybe I've done something to upset him and he feels he can't work it out with me."

Gabby got a sick feeling in her stomach. "When did this come about?"

"It was around the time when Mike and Pete moved out of the Pad. Davy and I went out and got hammered to celebrate your finding a new place and us deciding to stay at the Pad together, and he just started babbling nonsense about not wanting to hurt my feelings and apologizing for I don't even know what. I mean, we did have a talk about you moving in there and he told me he didn't want you to live with us, so that's probably what he was apologizing for. But to be honest, I was pretty relieved you didn't have to move in because I thought you'd be insulted if I asked you to because you'd find it terribly unromantic and anticlimactic if that's how we ended up living together. In the end, it was pretty funny and we were both relieved and we laughed about it. So I don't know. But things aren't quite the same with Davy because I don't know what I've done to upset him or how to make it right."

Gabby decided to go with her gut but say nothing of her suspicions. "Micky, I feel positive you didn't do anything to offend or hurt Davy. He's got a lot of issues he's dealing with, a lot of demons he's wrestling with, and I think you should leave it alone. Don't go stirring shit up if Davy's trying to protect you from something he thinks will hurt you. He's the best judge of that under the circumstances. Trust him. He values your friendship and wants to do right by you. Just let it go and take him at his word that you don't need to know what's on his mind. Let him work it out for himself or let Jan help him the way I help you with things. That's what girlfriends and lovers are for." She wrapped her arms around Micky and eased him down on the grass for a good snog. And once again she pushed uneasy thoughts back into a dark corner of her mind.

They walked around town, hitting the highlights of what the tour guides referred to as "the Freedom Trail." They stopped by the State House to gaze at its magnificent golden dome, visited the older, smaller, original State House where the Boston Massacre occurred, strolled by the hideously ugly, just-completed Boston City Hall and crossed the street to check out Faneuil Hall, the site of many important speeches plotting and encouraging America's Revolution for Independence. 

They followed cobblestone lanes over to the North End, Boston's Italian neighborhood, where Paul Revere's house still stood, and the Old North Church still gathered a congregation every weekend in the building where a faithful, patriotic sexton had been instructed to shine one lamp if the British were advancing by land and two lamps if they came by sea so that Revere could make his famous ride to Lexington to warn their compatriots. 

Fortunately, the North End was so cramped with tourists and locals speaking Italian that nobody took any notice of Micky and Gabby. They were able to find a small Italian restaurant to have an intimate lunch, then make a stop at a bakery and buy cannoli stuffed with fresh whipped cream and dipped in chocolate. Gabby bought a huge box of goodies to take back to the hotel to share with the others. 

They drifted down the side streets, noticing the dates on the buildings dating back to the 1800s, and saw old ladies poking their heads out the windows with their elbows resting on pillows and cushions they had propped up on the windowsills, calling to each other or down to the street to fill each other in on the local gossip. Italian men in natty fedoras and straw hats sat on folding chairs in front of private social clubs, apartment buildings or stores, smoking cigars and arguing about presumably the upcoming Red Sox season, as Micky recognized the names of players peppered in between Italian words he didn't know, punctuated with hand gestures mimicking swinging a bat or throwing a ball. They were enchanted by this neighborhood, a true neighborhood, where everybody seemed to know each other and look after each other, such a contrast to L.A. where folks mostly drove everywhere and lived in suburban sprawl, never getting to know their neighbors.

They drifted down the side streets, noticing the dates on the buildings dating back to the 1800s, and saw old ladies poking their heads out the windows with their elbows resting on pillows and cushions they had propped up on the windowsills, calling to each other or down to the street to fill each other in on the local gossip. Italian men in natty fedoras and straw hats sat on folding chairs in front of private social clubs, apartment buildings or stores, smoking cigars and arguing about presumably the upcoming Red Sox season, as Micky recognized the names of players peppered in between Italian words he didn't know, punctuated with hand gestures mimicking swinging a bat or throwing a ball.

They were enchanted by this neighborhood, a true neighborhood, where everybody seemed to know each other and look after each other, such a contrast to L.A. where folks mostly drove everywhere and lived in suburban sprawl, never getting to know their neighbors.

They walked a few more blocks and found themselves standing in front of the Boston Garden, where the next night's concert would be held. Gabby marveled "Isn't it amazing, you could actually walk to your gig tomorrow?"

Micky laughed at her naïveté. "Gabbileh (he imitated Wendy's Yiddish nickname for her), we'd never make it there alive! Didn't the scene at breakfast teach you anything?"

"Oh yeah, I guess you're right. Well, still, I just find it amazing to be in a big city that you can walk across. It's so different than home. I really like it here. Don't you?"

"Yeah, I do. I haven't really explored many of the places we've been to so far. It's been so hectic and not really practicable or safe, plus it's not all that fun to do things without someone you really love. But on the few occasions that I do get to go out and have a look around, I try to get out there with my camera and I imagine that you're with me."

Gabby turned to Micky, threaded her hands through his hair and locked her arms around his neck, preparatory for a rock 'em, sock 'em kiss. Suddenly, a crowd of squealing girls came charging towards them screaming "Mi-cky, Mi-cky, Mi-cky!!!" Micky quickly grabbed Gabby's hand and ran into the building in front of the Garden, a train station called North Station. He dashed through it and out the other side, located a cab stand and herded Gabby into the first cab in the rank. He shoved a ten dollar bill into the driver's hand and begged him to drive as fast as possible away from the approaching mob and take evasive action for now.

The cab driver grunted assent and hit the pedal to the metal. Tires screeching, they pulled quickly away and Micky asked him to make sure no other cars or cabs were following them. The cab driver checked his mirrors for any pursuers, assured Micky they had made a clean getaway, and asked him "Who are you with, the Winter Hill Gang?"

Micky shook his head in bewilderment. "No, do they play rock 'n roll? I'm with the Monkees. Can you take us to the Ritz?"

"Sure thing, buddy. You've got a bunch of time on the meter. Want me to take you the scenic route?"

Gabby piped up. "Yes, that would be lovely."

So they drove down Storrow Drive and saw the Charles River with its Esplanade of flowering trees and green grass, the Hatch Shell bandstand, shaped like half a hollowed out malt ball, and saw rowers and sailors skimming along on the river. 

He brought them back to their hotel via Beacon Street, with its beautiful row houses built in all manner of architectural styles, and deposited them back at the Ritz across from the Public Garden. 

Micky and Gabby thanked him for the tour and walked back into the hotel, carefully surveying the lobby for fans staking out the place hoping to catch one of the Monkees in person. Fortunately, they were able to make it up to their room unmolested.

Micky convinced Gabby to have dinner in the hotel, but she insisted that they at least go down to the restaurant. They had checked it out and it looked like a classy place, not likely to attract hordes of fans. Just in case, though, Micky paid the host to place them at a table near the windows away from the others and asked that a waiter be stationed near their table to fend off intruders. He was determined to have nothing spoil this time with Gabby, not just to protect her from the occupational hazards of his new life, but because he ached for a regular date night with her. They didn't invite anyone else from the family for fear of multiplying the danger of detection, but as it happened, everyone else had come up with the same solution to the problem, and in the end, the management asked if they would like to be moved to a private dining room and they agreed and thanked them for the thoughtful gesture. 

As they were moving to the other room, Gabby whispered to Micky "I don't mind not getting you to myself, Micky, but in light of what you told me this morning, is this really okay with you?"

Micky shrugged his shoulders and said "You know, it might help to have everyone together. You girls have always been a good influence on us. And this whole concept of family might be our last best hope of reminding certain people of their obligation to the collective. I won't be upset if you make a toast to that if you feel like it." He winked at her. She grinned at him, appreciating the way he was removing the strictures he had placed on her earlier in the day when he unburdened himself about the group's deteriorating dynamics.

The Ritz dining room overlooked the Public Garden, and so did the private room the Monkees were accommodated in. The tables were covered in crisp white cloths and the water goblets were cobalt blue, while the flatware was a gaudy gold that matched the gold trim on the white porcelain plates.

This being Boston, many of them opted for seafood, such as boiled whole lobsters and steamed clams, or combination dinners that included steak, which the menu called "surf and turf." The wine was flowing, except for Davy, who as usual opted for whiskey, even with dinner ("I cahn't be doing with grape juice like a little kid" was his view on the matter).

Everybody swapped stories about how they had spent the day and what sights they had seen. Peter and Dawn had ventured across the Charles River to Cambridge, or as it was derisively known by the Establishment as "the People's Republic of Cambridge" for its über liberal politics and earthy-crunchy, college town atmosphere and hippie population. They hung around Harvard Square, popping in and out of shops that sold beads, incense and books about feminism, poetry and revolution, and listened to several buskers on the sidewalks and in the Square playing various instruments, singing folk and protest songs. 

Wendy had lately turned into something of a clotheshorse, so she dragged Michael on a shopping spree down tony Newbury Street, the street on which the Ritz was located. The stores closest to the hotel were the most expensive, and the further away they got the funkier and more eclectic they became. She asked Michael to help her pick out clothes to impress and intimidate the suits at the label, and she also let him pick out sexy clothes and shoes that would soothe his savage breast (though she didn't share this tidbit with the family).

Robert and Lynda accompanied Wendy for part of her shopping spree because of Lynda's professional interest in fashion, then peeled off to visit the Museum of Fine Arts, which fed Robert's passion for photography and the visual arts. Lynda was pleased to find that the museum also took an interest in period costume and had an exhibition of colonial dresses on display. Lynda hoped one day to become a costume designer for a movie studio.

"Jan, Davy is obviously crazy about you if he's willing to put himself so far out if his comfort zone and go to an art museum with you!" She beamed with delight at both of them. Jan blushed and looked very pleased to be receiving such recognition. Davy got very puffed up, like a rooster about to crow at dawn. By now, he had drunk quite a bit of whiskey and was obviously not even remotely sober. He leaned in towards Gabby and said "Hey, what can I say, Jan is _my everything_ , isn't that right, Dolly?" and he gave her a big sloppy smooch while not taking his eyes off Gabby.

Gabby felt her stomach clench with discomfort. She sensed that Davy was sending her a secret signal, a message, and what's more, he seemed to be mocking Micky's pet phrase for expressing his love for Gabby. Before he had worked up the courage to tell Gabby he loved her, in the early days of their courtship, Micky would tell her that she was his everything. Rather than trying to parse the meaning of Davy's words or argue with a drunk man, Gabby just smiled and said "I'm so glad for you both, Davy." Davy shot her a look that held a multiplicity of emotions: smugness, cockiness, taunting teasing humor, and unmistakable undertones of longing, pain and shame. The moment lasted for the flicker of an eye blink, and then it was gone. Gabby really couldn't be sure it had happened at all, except for the fact that Micky saw it too and asked her about it later. She said she didn't know what it was all about, but more and more, she sensed that she did know but didn't dare speculate or tell Micky about her conjectures.

When dessert came, Gabby asked if it was too late to make a toast and everyone said it wasn't. So she stood and began to speak.

"I just want to say how glad I am that we all freaked out and ended up at the restaurant tonight and had dinner together. Even when we don't mean to, we gather together and gravitate towards each other, for comfort, for safety, camaraderie, laughs, love and family. We're all individuals, and all couples now, but I hope we'll always remember that we're still a group, still a family, with common bonds and goals, and that we fare better as a collective. And since we're in the town where Ben Franklin made his home for a while, I'll quote him from something I saw along the Freedom Trail today. He once said in addressing the Continental Congress in 1776: 'We must, indeed, all hang together, or most assuredly we shall all hang separately.' I think that's a pretty smart piece of thinking that we could benefit by following. So here's to hanging together. Cheers!"

She raised her glass and the others joined her. Micky gazed at her with admiration, love and appreciation. She glanced over at Mike, who was looking at her as if he knew she had spoken with a purpose in mind and was trying to figure out whether she was going to be an obstacle, a force to be reckoned with, an opponent he'd need to vanquish. She sensed him sizing her up, but she ignored his appraising gaze, despite the shiver it sent down her back.

As they were taking their pre-bedtime bath, Micky and Gabby talked over the matters outstanding from dinner, including Davy's enigmatic behavior and Mike's odd look after Gabby's toast.

Gabby commented "I know you said I could do it, Micky, but I think maybe my giving that toast rattled Mike's cage."

Micky nodded and responded "That's why I suggested it. I knew it would."

"But isn't that what you asked me _not_ to do? You don't want me fighting your battles, right?"

"Right. Let's just call this a passive aggressive shot across his bow. It's me letting him know that I know he's up to no good, that he's not fooling me even if the other guys haven't figured it out yet. I'm sending him a message through you. If he thinks I'm going to use you to fight my battles, then that's just a bonus. He's a little afraid of you, truth be told. He knows you've got balls of brass, Gabby, and that you're tapped in with circles that he's not. Legal, political, social, even musical at this point. Not to mention the fact that you positively kick ass and take no shit. He's met his match in you, and other than Wendy, there's no other woman on Earth he fears or respects more. So we'll let him think you're on the case, but you won't actually do anything. Hopefully that will be enough to temper his worst instincts. Not to mention the fact that him thinking that you know the full scoop will make him fearful that you'll spill the beans to Wendy, assuming she isn't in on his schemes. He knows all about your girl code." Micky was smiling with a wicked glee and he looked like for the first time in a long time, he was carrying less of a burden.

Gabby stroked her chin and slowly nodded with an impressed expression. "Man, Micky, you've really got a diabolical mind when you decide to apply yourself. I'm glad to be of help even if it's of the passive aggressive variety. Thanks for including me in your crusade to keep the band moving in the right direction." She sat up and took his hands in hers and pulled him towards her for a kiss. Then she leaned back again and said "Let's get out of this tub. The tap is digging into your back and the water's getting cold. I want to snuggle down with you and sleep in that canopy bed. It's so exciting the room has one of those! I've always wanted to sleep in one of those ever since I was a little girl."

They climbed out of the tub and dried each other off. This time she put on the sexy nightwear. She knew it would be coming right off, but she figured it was the least she could do. Her babydoll nightgown barely covered her butt and was nearly sheer, highlighting her rosy nipples and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.

"Are you tired, Micky? It's okay if you want to just go to sleep and get your rest for tomorrow. This can be your fantasy for the night and suffice. I won't mind." She was playing somewhat coy, but she also wanted to make sure Micky had the option of getting as much sleep as he felt he needed with a gig coming up the next night.

Micky drank in the sight of her and sank onto the bed, a little weak in the knees. "I do find myself unable to stand, but it's not from exhaustion, it's from you bowling me over with your loveliness. But I don't want or need a fantasy tonight. I've spent so many lonely nights without you, Gabby. Tonight I want to be you and me. I want you to be my everything, and I want to be your everything. And I don't care who thinks that's an object of derision or amusement because to me it's as serious as a heart attack."

Gabby sat down next to Micky and put her hand on his shoulder. "Micky, my Micky, don't let whatever was going through Davy's mind harsh your mellow. He was just taking the piss out of you because he was drunk, and maybe he feels insecure or even jealous about what we have. Don't hold it against him, either. Just forget about it. You and I have our own goofy way of doing things, and I'm sure to the outside world it might seem pretty out there. But you and I know where it's at, right?"

Micky looked searchingly into Gabby's eyes and conceded "Yes, you're right. Of course. I think maybe I'm just going stir crazy being cooped up with these guys all the time, so maybe they are, too. I need to cut him some slack. He's a cool cat and he's been through a lot. He hasn't been as lucky as I have in love and maybe I ought to be rooting for him as hard as you are. Let's just forget about it. Now what were we discussing?"

Gabby breathed a private sigh of relief inwardly, and gave a big smile outwardly to Micky. "We were talking about who we are and how we want to make love tonight. You want it to be you and me, Micky and Gabby. _Cinéma vérité_ if you will."

Micky gave a husky laugh and said "that's a clever way of putting it."

"So take me, Micky. Come get me. I'm here and I'm all yours. I'm your Gabriella and I want to make you feel wonderful. Tell me what I can do to give you pleasure."

"How about if you tie me up?"

Gabby felt surprise that she knew she ought not to feel. Their whole relationship was built on reciprocity and equality. But it hadn't occurred to her that she would ever be a dominatrix. She gathered her courage and asked to set a different intention.

"I'm willing to do it, Micky, but not as a way of dominating you. I will do it because it will make your body feel heightened pleasure. That's what I felt when you did it to me. Every one of my senses was sharper and everything I felt was keener. The way you approached it with me, you made sure I didn't feel dominated. That's the way I want to be with you, particularly as we won't be role playing. Is that agreeable to you?"

"Yes, I understand exactly what you mean. It's what I wanted for you and that's what I want for myself, though maybe someday I wouldn't mind if you dominated me but I'd probably have to work up to it, and I wouldn't want you to shame me or be mean to me."

"Never. I wouldn't agree to that even if you asked for it. But let's just focus on the here and now. Keep it in the day, do what's in front of us. I'm going to restrain you with those scarves, and then I'm going to give you great pleasure. Okay?"

Micky nodded. He laid down on the bed and handed the scarves to her. She tied him up in the same manner and sequence that he did her the night before, pausing with just his upper limbs restrained first to give him an opportunity to accustom himself to the sensation, then attaching his legs to the bedposts.

When she had him secured to the bed, she asked him how he felt. "Tell me what's in your mind, Micky."

Micky had a hazy, glassy look on his face and a big smile and said "I feel like I'm at the top of that first tall hill on a rollercoaster, about to take the plunge." Gabby grinned as she processed the image in her mind.

She gave Micky a look of mischief as she rose from the bed and turned her back on him. As she walked towards her luggage, he cried "Hey, where are you going? You've got me all trussed up and you're leaving me here?"

Gabby rummaged through her suitcase and grabbed something in a black velvet pouch. With her back still turned to Micky she said "No, my love, I'm not leaving you, I'm getting ready to send you over that big hill on the rollercoaster ride of your life. Buckle up."

She walked over to the bed with the fabric bag in her hand, which Micky now noticed.

"What's in there?" he asked, with some trepidation mixed with excitement.

"My electronic lover," she responded, and pulled out her vibrator.

It was a slightly curved wand with a flat head, the bottom part colored white and the tip hot pink. It had three settings that did different things, and there was a button to adjust the speed.

"It's the very latest in vibrator technology, according the catalog I bought it from," Gabby assured him, sounding like a Fuller Brush salesman. Micky's eyes widened with bewilderment, a little fear of the unknown and surprise at Gabby's cold recitation of the specs of this piece of equipment. She broke the tension by giving him an elaborately saucy wink.

"Now, Micky, would you like me to use this on you? When you came back from your first tour, you mentioned it, or maybe that was just a joke. How about it?"

"I'm, I'm not sure," he stammered.

"I can understand your being a little thrown by the concept. Usually it's chicks who use them. Would you feel better if I use it first?"

Micky's eyes widened again, this time with pleasurable anticipation and more surprise at this latest unexpected turn of events.

"Yeah, that would be fine. Sort of like the door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesperson doing a demonstration before the customer buys."

Gabby chuckled dryly. "Yeah, that's a very romantic image, Micky, very kinky. Really puts me in the mood. Okay, but we're not doing alternate identities tonight. So I'm Gabby, and I'm going to show you what I do when you're away on the road and I'm lonely for you and I need a sexual release."

Micky's eyes glowed with anticipation and hungry fervor. Gabby placed herself between Micky's splayed, tied up legs, and leaned against the footboard of the bed. She began to caress her breasts with her hands and also the vibrator. She licked her fingers and dragged them over her nipples and tweaked and pinched them. After some moisture began to accumulate between her legs, she touched it and rubbed that on her nipples and slicked her fingers more rapidly over them. She leaned over, grasping her whole breast, one at a time, and sucked at her nipples, moaning slightly.

She took up the vibrator again and ran it down her belly, spreading her legs wider so that Micky could see everything of her anatomy. She turned the vibrator up to a higher setting and inserted it into her vagina and rubbed it over her G-spot. Immediately, she arched her back and cooed and moaned. She moved her fingers over her clitoris, slowly and gently at first, then grinding quickly, then retreating.

Now she was flat on her back with her legs spread wide open for Micky. She couldn't see his face anymore. She was focusing on her own pleasure. She removed the vibrator from inside her and changed the setting to one that buzzed harder and at a random sequence. She applied it directly to her clitoris and immediately her pelvis and hips shot up in the air. Within seconds, she was coming and moaning and crying out, alternatively fingering her hole and pressing the vibrator against her clitoris harder. After a minute or so, she moved it away from her body and clamped her hand between her legs instead. She took a couple more minutes to regain her composure and then sat up to face Micky and gauge his reaction.

"Well, what did it feel like to be a voyeur of a session between me and my electric buzz machine?"

Micky took a moment to answer, as if he were returning from a long way away in time and distance. "It was really cool and different, but not as erotic as I thought it would be. Maybe partly because I don't know what it feels like for you, and partly because there's no emotion attached to what you're experiencing. Even when you masturbate with your fingers, there's emotion there because it's self-love, but with the vibrator, it's just a machine."

Gabby nodded her head and said "That's true, for sure the emotion is key to everything. But I think you'll find that the sensations the machine give you are very pleasurable and compensate for some of what's missing. Want to try it?"

Micky took a deep breath and exhaled. "Can I have both? You and the machine?"

"Of course, my Micky. I'm not willing to let the machine have all of you. I'd be very jealous." She smiled reassuringly at him.

"Okay. Then I'll say yes."

Gabby set the vibrator aside altogether on the bedside table as Micky looked at it with a bit of alarm. She spent the next several minutes kissing his head and neck and ears until he was breathless and also just a bit impatient.

She laughed and said mockingly "Ahh, who's got the fidgets now?"

Micky sheepishly shrugged his shoulders and gave her a look that said "can we get this show on the road now, I'm really horny?" She took pity on him and started to work her way down his body. She took her time when she reached his nipples. She adored his cute little pink nipples, and he loved for her to lavish them with attention, so it was a fair bargain for them both but again, Micky began to strain at his bonds and become impatient, silently urging her southward.

She took the hint and tongued her way down his happy trail, then mercilessly skipped his groin completely and lavished kisses on his legs, the backs of his knees, and his ankles and feet.

He started to positively pull at his bindings now and she asked him "What can I do for you now, Micky?"

"You can stop dicking around and suck my dick, Gabby."

She giggled. "Isn't part of the reason to get tied up to get teased, my Micky?"

"Well, yeah, I suppose so, but I'm still stuck at the top of the roller coaster hill and I'm getting edgy with all this waiting. If you don't touch my penis soon I'm going to rip the posts out of this bed and have my way with you, and don't think I can't do it!"

Gabby gave him a wicked smile and said "Oh my, well that might just be worth experiencing!"

"Gaaaaaaaabbyyyyyyyy!!!!!" Micky whined.

"Okay, I'm just joking. You've been very patient." With that, she quickly and unexpectedly took his whole penis in her mouth and began to go to town on him for about ten seconds and then stopped.

"Aaargh! Why'd you stop?" Micky cried.

"Because the whole reason to be tied up is to be teased, didn't we just establish that? And when you finally come, you're going to come with a seismic reading that's going to rival the great San Francisco earthquake. Trust me, Micky."

She resumed sucking and licking his penis, but with a much gentler touch and for shorter strokes. Micky tried to lift his body into her mouth and the follow the path of her tongue, but his bindings prevented his movements. Now she reached for the vibrator and held it in front of him to examine visually. She showed him what all three functions did and what the speeds looked like.

"Are you ready for this now, Micky? I think it will give you the pleasure and orgasm you're seeking."

Micky was hungry, almost desperate for release, and his doubts and fears had vanished. He viewed the inanimate lover as his savior and welcomed its participation now.

"Yes, I'm ready. Please release me from the tension I'm feeling. Let me come."

Gabby kissed Micky deeply, then nodded at him and turned the electronic lover on. She applied it to his belly and he jumped and twitched, then she shushed him and reassured him she was just introducing him formally with a how-do-you-do. She let him feel all its functions and speeds and asked him how each felt. He described what he was feeling and expressed his preferences for which setting he wanted to try. Then she asked his consent once more, and he granted it.

She ran the vibrator all over his body, up and down his arms and legs, under his knees, over his butt cheeks, and on the palms of his restrained hands and the souls of his feet (this last made him giggle because he was ticklish). The tension now totally defused, she applied the vibrator at its lowest speed setting to Micky's penis and ran it up and down his shaft and over the sensitive mushroom-shaped head. She paused at his most sensitive spot, where the underside of the head met the shaft, and she held it there for a longer moment, and Micky hissed with pleasure and writhed and moaned, straining hard at his bonds. Suddenly, with no conscious warning to his brain, he found himself crying out and spurting all over himself, twitching and buzzing with the most unusual orgasm he had ever experienced. It all happened so fast and he lacked control in every single way. He was immobilized physically, mentally his brain was mush, and his body was experiencing something that was exponentially more powerful than he had ever felt before.

He managed to gasp out the words "Too much, too much," and Gabby removed the vibrator from his skin. She decided to replace the electronic stimulation with some comforting and soothing touch from her tongue instead, and she took his penis in her mouth and just held it there gently. He was able to mumble "Better, better..."

Gabby waited a couple minutes, watching and listening to Micky breathe, waiting for him to settle back down. When he was calm again, she withdrew her lips and sat up, brushing her fingertips lightly on his forehead and he opened his tightly clenched eyes. A sunny smile broke out on his face and he sighed deeply.

"Ohhhhh, man. I am fried. I know you're going to ask me how it felt and I can't even describe it except to say it was like all my circuits blowing at once."

Gabby giggled. "Well, that's pretty much in keeping with the electricity theme. Want me to untie you?"

Micky nodded silently and breathed out another big breath. She quickly removed the scarves with no more fanfare. She could tell he was way overstimulated and needed to come back down to Earth. When he had all his limbs free, he stretched a bit and then quickly grasped for her to pull her on top of him for a full body hug. It was Micky's instinct, when he felt insecure or in need of grounding, to press himself against her and leave no room between them. She made no move to participate — she was his teddy bear, his comfort he was reaching for and she didn't need to do anything other than to be there for him.

After a few moments, she whispered in his ear, "You okay now?" He nodded silently. "Glad or sorry?" she inquired about how he felt as to what they had just done.

"Glad for sure. Mind blown. Curiosity about electric sex satisfied, though."

"What about restraints? Did you like that?"

Micky thought about it and said "I think I liked the idea of it better than the actual application. I guess the simple fact is that I prefer to be the director, in my heart of hearts, and I can't really do that without a free hand. I'd rather be giving pleasure than receiving it passively, too. Or receiving it mutually or as a gift from you and not as a supplicant. What do you think?"

Gabby mulled it over and said "I understand what you mean. You're a very dynamic, kinetic, sometimes manic person. I can see how being restrained wouldn't really sit well with your nature. And if you're doing something that doesn't go with your flow, then it's distracting, even if the end result can and does blow your mind. It's disquieting, disturbing. I mean, maybe I'd have had a great time making it with anther chick if Nick hadn't tried to force it on me, but he did and my system just rebelled. And really, I'm not into women. I'd only do it to check it out and that's pretty much what you just did tonight. You checked it out, it's not your thing, and now you can scratch that off your bucket list. So yeah, don't ask me if I'll make it with another chick. The answer is no. And we don't have to ever do this to you again."

Micky chuckled and took in all this intriguing and new information. "So would you ever want to do this again for yourself, I mean, be tied up again?"

Gabby paused and thought. "I thought it felt good physically, but it took a lot of mental masturbation to accept it emotionally and intellectually, and I'm not sure it's worth it. I don't think either one of us is the type who wants to be immobilized or anything close to dominated. I think we gel together well sexually because we're able to read each other's bodies well and that takes the ability to constantly touch each other as well as talk. We do enough trusting and swapping of the reins without the need for actual physical restraints."

"Yeah, I agree. But I have to say I'm incredibly turned on by and grateful to know that I'm with a woman who's willing to try things and who trusts me that much. I never ever thought I'd ever do any of this stuff with a respectable girl like you. I thought it would be with the groupies. I thought I'd get all this wild shit outta my system when I was young and irresponsible, then I'd grow up, meet a nice girl, settle down and have a conventional sex life."

"Vanilla, you mean?" Gabby raised her eyebrow ironically, harkening back to their old joke. "Instead of which you've got not just tutti frutti but every other damn flavor you've asked for! With me it was the opposite. Nick took me to the brink with his damn tutti frutti and I was determined to run a mile from it and make my sex life as vanilla as possible. And then you showed up, all T and F, and took me way past the edges of anyplace I ever thought I'd ever go. But you did it with such love, such gentleness, and such meaning and trust. I don't think there's anything else I feel the need to try, but if there ever is for you, it's still okay to ask me. This not turning out to be something we want to stick with doesn't mean we're in our rut and that's that, okay, Micky?"

Micky hugged her even harder and sighed with content and wonder. "I hate to keep quoting Crosby, but you're a whole lotta woman, my Gabby, you know that?"

She giggled and said "Yeah, I do. As long as you don't call me Scoop, you can say that to me without my confusing you and Cros."

He released her and allowed her to slot herself next to his side. She shivered a bit and he pulled the covers over them. They kissed for a while and then drifted off to sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

Concert day felt palpably different for the girls. The guys' moods had shifted dramatically. They had their game faces on, and they were all business. They were like professional athletes, performing pre-game rituals. Even though they had the girls there as their guests, they made no concessions for their comforts or preferences, and quite rightly too, the girls agreed.

Breakfast meant an enormous room service spread for Micky and Gabby, accompanied by the morning papers and some lazing around. There was a late morning press call to start their official activities and they would be busy the rest of the day, right up until concert time, so Micky wanted to make the most of the little time they had together. Because of the previous evening's off-the-charts fireworks, morning sex was off the table, though normally it would definitely be an option, he reassured her.

After the press call, the guys would rehearse and do a thorough sound check. The plan was for the girls to spend the day exploring the city and to meet the guys back at the hotel for an early dinner at 5:00 p.m. Then they'd all leave for the Boston Garden in a set of limos at 6:30 p.m. for the concert, which began at 8:00 p.m. That left time for a second quick sound check to assure that there were no equipment glitches.

This time, the girls decided to stick together. They wandered down Newbury Street, where Wendy and Dawn now became tour guides to the most interesting shops, since they had visited there the day before. They took a side street over to Copley Square and decided to explore the Boston Public Library. The library was home to a magnificent mural on the ceiling painted by John Singer Sargent, Jan informed them, and they marveled at it as they strained their necks climbing the staircase on the way up to the main reading room. 

The reading room had dozens of dark wooden tables with individual glass green-shaded reading lamps. It was a temple to the pursuit of knowledge and it made Gabby's mouth water slightly as she gazed at all the books that lined the shelves that extended up to a vaulted ceiling.

As they walked back down the stairs, they discovered a courtyard with fountains and flowers, and they sat there for a while, resting their feet. As Californians, they weren't accustomed to all this walking. They talked of their expectations of the night ahead, and their long term aspirations for the band and the family. Wendy asked Dawn how the baby making project was going.

"Swell, Wendy, just swell. How do you think it's going? Do you see me running out to buy pickles and ice cream yet? It's not going at all! We're never in the same damn city, never mind in the same room!"

"Oh, sorry," Wendy shamefacedly apologized. "That was a really dumb question."

Dawn pattered her on the shoulder and said "It's okay, doll. It's not just that. I think maybe one of us is firing blanks. But maybe I'm just being impatient. You know, for all we worry about getting knocked up when we don't want to get that way, once we say okay, let's go, it's not as easy as we'd imagine. Makes me wonder why I did all that worrying in the past. It's confusing."

Gabby sighed and said "You know, Mother Nature is really a bitch. She's probably given me super-ovaries just to spite me, knowing I don't plan on using them."

Jan was hearing this from Gabby's lips for the first time, even though she had heard Lynda mention it to Robert in the past. She decided to ask about it.

"You mean you definitely don't want kids, Gabby?"

Gabby hung her head a little, feeling like a defector to her gender or a rogue solider who had gone AWOL. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I don't. I think the only reason I'd have kids is to give Micky the greatest gift of all that he wants. I just don't have that maternal instinct for human children — just dogs. But you know, is that a good enough reason to have kids, because Micky wants them? I know that my mom had kids because it's what was expected of her, and I also know she had no business having kids, not just because her personality didn't suit her to it but also because my dad traveled most of the year and he was never around to help her raise us. It's good that I'm here and I survived her and my dad's neglectful, inadequate parenting, but is that good enough for the next generation?"

Jan asked "Why do you think Micky would be a bad parent?"

"I didn't say bad, I said neglectful and inadequate. Look at his life. He's on the road for weeks and sometimes months at a time. Our relationship exists solely over the telephone. I have sex with a vibrator! My replacement lover is an inanimate being! Who will replace Micky as father to our children when he's not there??"

The girls all had shocked faces and slack jaws as Gabby let her hair down and admitted to her substitute lover, then as that reaction passed, their attention shifted to the more significant implications of what she was saying. Because what she was saying about Micky could be said about the other three Monkees as well. She wasn't saying it as an indictment or to cast aspersions, but the other girls couldn't help but take it that way and start to argue their cases.

Gabby forestalled them and said "Yes, yes, I know. Your guys are all great guys and you're all going to have kids and you'll all be happy and your kids will be well adjusted and I'm full of shit. I'm only speaking for myself. I'm not projecting anything onto you or your men. You asked me my opinion and I gave it to you."

Wendy piped up and said "I never said I was going to have kids."

They all looked at her, slightly shocked and surprised.

Gabby took precedence to ask the first question since she was Wendy's best friend. "Then why did you just give me a load of guff right now?"

Wendy shrugged her shoulders and said "Habit." She smiled and then stuck her tongue out at Gabby, who started to rumble with laughter.

Dawn couldn't contain her curiosity. "Why don't you think you'll have kids, Wendy, and have you informed your amore about this?"

"I think I might not have kids because I'm not really the maternal type and because my career is everything to me. I'm probably more the crazy cat lady type. I think I'd like to have about five cats from a rescue shelter. We've already got one. His name is Angus."

Gabby exclaimed "Wendy, that's incredibly irresponsible of you! You're on the road as much as Mike! Who takes care of him when you're gone?"

"Our neighbor. I pay him to come by and feed him and play with him."

Dawn shook her head and said "Girl, you are something else. I think we're already drifting apart if we didn't even know you have a cat. This is upsetting me. When were you going to tell us?"

Wendy furrowed her brows and looked defensive. "I _wasn't_ gonna tell you because I knew I'd get the Gabby lecture on responsibility."

Gabby said "2G1B, _chica_. And while we're talking about _irresponsibility_ , answer Dawn's other question. Have you told Mike about not wanting to have kids?"

Now Wendy was in full-on maverick mode. "No, I haven't. He's got his whole mind on his career and his future, so why shouldn't I also? That's why I don't want to have kids, at least for the moment. I'm on to something big. Right now, I'm managing one of the top-selling bands in the country. Someday, I might parlay that into managing other bands and maybe open an agency of my own, or even partner up with Mike and open a production company and agency. Man, there's no limit to what he and I can do together! So why should I get stuck at home tending to a kid and give up my dreams?"

Gabby nodded her head and said "You think I don't get you, Wendy, but I do. That's how I feel, too. I have important things I want to do, and they're dangerous and not hospitable to children. That anti-war march I helped lead, the protests I intend to be part of in the future, they're dangerous. The movements I hope to lead, they'll have long hours, and maybe travel involved. All the things I want to do with my life I'll be doing so that other girls and woman of my generation and after me can do whatever they want to do, be it work or have children. This Vietnam War isn't going to last forever. But women's rights aren't getting any stronger or more protected. That's my next cause."

Lynda spoke up. "Wendy, if you feel that way, and I'm not saying it's not a totally valid way to feel, you owe it to Mike to tell him that before he pops the question and commits his whole life to you. At least Gabby's been up front with Micky."

Wendy retorted "Yeah, and where's that gotten her? She's still living on her own in a tiny little apartment with no dog child and I'm living in a beautiful house with Mike with a cat."

Gabby just shook her head sorrowfully. "Wendileh, you haven't changed since we were kids. You can never resist lashing out when you get the opportunity to dish off your own insecurities onto someone else, and usually it's me. Don't even bother apologizing to me later for what you just said. I'm sick of having to forgive you. You take it for granted that I will, otherwise you wouldn't keep talking shit about me and Micky."

Jan was furious on Gabby's behalf, however, and would not let this insult stand. "I'm sorry, but since I brought up this topic, I feel like I need to speak up now in Gabby's defense. Gabby, I'm sorry I ended up putting you in the firing line. Being new to the group, I didn't realize I was setting you up for what apparently is an old unresolved battle to be reignited." She turned now to fix a stern look at Wendy. "And for your information, Miss Maverick, Davy is getting the same stiff arm treatment from me as Micky is from Gabby. I've been very upfront with him about my doubts about his suitability as a father, and I'm in no hurry to move in with him either. I'm not sure whether I want kids or not, but if we ever do get married, I can guarantee you we will have had that discussion six ways to Sunday before we ever walk down the aisle. And I'd definitely wait a while before we tried for kids. I think Davy would need time to settle in just being a husband. He seems to need time to adjust to every new thing in his life. I guess it's the lack of stability he's had since his mom died when he was a kid, plus leaving home at such a young age. He thinks he's this self-sufficient, fearless guy, but he's really in need of stability and nurturing, and I'm pretty sure I'm the first person, other than Lynda," she smiled fondly at her as she said this "who's given it to him."

Wendy shifted uneasily in her seat and tried to deflect the attention from her own misbehavior. "What about you and Robert, Lynda?"

Lynda looked a bit embarrassed and reluctant to discuss it. "Well, if I say what's up with me and Robert, you girls are probably going to take offense because it's very different from how you see things."

Gabby waved her arm dismissively at Dawn and Wendy, whom she felt sure were the ones Lynda feared alienating, and said "Don't worry about getting judged, Lynda. Anyone who points a finger in judgment should remember that there are three fingers pointing back at themselves."

"Well, Robert and I haven't even discussed marriage and kids, apart from on one occasion at RAT Beach when we were talking about how you all were very focused on it and he was freaked out that you'd be talking about it so soon, considering you all hadn't been together with each other very long. I explained to him that your personalities were different and that you'd been through heavier experiences and had bonded in an extraordinary manner. The fact is, Robert and I are just enjoying being together and for now that's it. We're not focusing on the future. I told him he'd have to get a proper job if he even wanted to discuss settling down and having a family, and for now I'm content not to worry about it. He loves me and appreciates me and we enjoy each other. It's simple. When I think about the future, the only thing I focus on is trying to figure out a way to get my career jump started. I'm not thinking about that other stuff. I've got what I want right now — a man I love who feels the same way about me, great friends, a job that's in the ballpark of the work I want to be doing, and that's enough for me."

Dawn countered "But aren't you worried that he's taking advantage of you? He's getting all the good stuff with no responsibility."

Lynda shrugged her shoulders. "Why would I want to hand him responsibility that I don't want myself? We're both young and carefree. We like not having responsibility. He likes working in the bookstore for not a lot of money but for the love of books. I like not having to be the center of someone's world. No offense to Jan, but it was really hard for me to be that for Davy when he was going through his drama with the draft board. I realized then that I wasn't really ready to be someone's everything, as Micky says about Gabby. I'm just happy with him and he with me. I'm sure that's bound to change someday. When it does, I'll let him know and he'll have a decision to make, or maybe we both will, or maybe he'll have already moved on and gotten a better job where he can support a family and it won't be an issue. I just don't want to worry about it now. Live for today."

Gabby nodded. "I say it this way: Keep it in the day, do what's in front of you."

Jan chimed in "Amen, sister."

Dawn replied "Maybe I ought to adopt that way of thinking, too. It might make it easier to wake up every day and handle not being pregnant yet."

The girls all leaned in to wrap their arms around Dawn to comfort her. She silently began to sob. As the sun beat down on the little courtyard, they swayed back and forth, lulling Dawn into a trance of tranquility until she felt ready to leave. They exited the library and walked across the street to the park in front of a beautiful brick church. Dawn asked "Can we go in? I'd like to say a prayer and light a candle for my future baby."

The girls nodded and headed for the entrance. Trinity Church seemed much more of a tourist attraction than a church, even though it had an active congregation and held regular services. There were many people inside, milling about. The ornate red brick building was constructed in the late 1800s in the Romanesque architectural style, and was designed by H.H. Richardson. Gabby reflected on how different it was than the Old North Church in the North End. Old North was a very simple whitewashed wooden structure with virtually no adornment, built by the Puritans, while this church was built in the Victorian age, a time of excessive decoration and ornamentation. It occurred to Gabby that she had been in more churches in the last two days than she had ever been in her lifetime, that is to say, she had never been in any churches at all before because she was Jewish. She found them strange, exotic and oddly comforting. Each of the girls took turns lighting a candle, making private wishes and prayers, perhaps for Dawn and Peter's future child, and maybe also for their own good fortune or the good of the world.

The girls decided to be adventurous and hopped on a subway car. They found themselves at the famous Filene's Basement store, where clothes of all sorts of price and quality were heaped in bins and regularly marked down daily. Because of the capricious nature of this system, it was often possible to end up getting a high-end designer dress for mere pennies on the dollar. The store's most notorious event was a yearly bridal gown sale in which brides had to be restrained at a starting line like Olympic freestyle runners and then they'd tear through the store grabbing gowns to trade and barter for others their size until hopefully they'd end up with one that both fit their body and their pocketbook.

They followed the street down past Filene's all the way to the waterfront and had a look around Boston Harbor, including the site of the infamous Boston Tea Party, where in 1773 colonists disguised as Native Americans destroyed an entire shipment of the British East India Tea Company by throwing it into the harbor. They were protesting the British Parliament's implementation of a tax on tea without their having had their own representatives vote on it. Their slogan "no taxation without representation" helped ignite the American Revolution.

By now, they were getting tired and hungry. Gabby complained that her dogs were barking and Wendy explained to a bewildered Lynda that that was American speak for "my feet are killing me!" Gabby grabbed the first person who looked like a local and asked him where they could get some decent seafood. He recommended they try the Union Oyster House. It was walkable unless they were tired, so they opted to take a cab. They had wonderful food there, including an odd concoction called a lobster roll, which was like a lobster mayonnaise salad on a buttered, grilled hot dog roll. The waitress who took their drinks orders recommended they drink lightly as they were just across a cobblestone lane from one of the oldest pubs, and maybe even _the_ oldest pub, in America, called The Bell In Hand. This was irresistible and they spent the rest of their afternoon knocking back ales, grilling Gabby about her vibrator and asking her how they could get one of their own, trying to think of funny names for Peter and Dawn's child, and fending off some guys with very thick local accents who kept hitting on them. 

On the cab ride back to the hotel, Wendy imitated one of them: "Hey, ladies, can I buy you a beeeyah?"

Dawn speculated with an inebriated giggle, "I think he meant he wanted to buy you a beer."

Wendy continued: "Awww, okay, no beeeyah. How about a shawwwwt?"

Dawn translated: "A shot."

Wendy continued: "You don't drink no alcohol? How about a tawwwnic?"

Jan speculated: "Tonic? I think he meant soda because he was pointing to the Coca-Cola sign when he said that."

Wendy mimicked: "Bahtendah, give me give six beeeyahs, two shawwwts and a tawwwnic!"

Gabby broke up giggling, "Bwahahahahaha!" The other girls, who were just as blotto, followed suit. Fortunately, they had time to take naps, sober up and make themselves presentable before the guys came back and found them in a sorry state.

When Micky got back to the hotel, he saw Gabby napping and crawled into bed with her, after phoning the front desk for a wakeup call. She stirred a bit but just snuggled into him once he got comfortable. She felt a stir of her libido, but knew he had a job to do and needed to stay focused. It could wait. As if he had read her mind, he whispered into her ear "Later." She nodded and drifted back off to sleep.

They assembled in the same private dining room they had been given the night before, though this time it was still light out and they had a beautiful view of the city from the windows. The atmosphere was also different in that it was neither romantic nor convivial. It was about feeding the body, not the soul, something Gabby always hated. As they were finishing up their meals and getting ready to leave through the main dining area, Gabby caught sight of a Black waiter wiping his eyes with a napkin, a most unusual sight to see a man cry in public. Then she took a look around and saw others of the staff, many of them Black, weeping and buzzing with emotion and hushed whispers. Something was very wrong and Gabby was the first, as usual, to perceive it, being the empath that she was.

She dropped her napkin on her plate and walked straight over to the man who was crying, put her hand on his arm and asked him what was troubling him. He looked afraid, as if he had been caught doing something extremely unprofessional and he might lose his job. Gabby gave his arm a pat and a squeeze and said "It's okay, my brother and friend. Tell me, what has happened?" The man's lip trembled and two fat tears descended from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. He whispered "The Reverend Dr. King's been shot. It's like as not they've killed him."

Gabby's hand on the man's arm convulsed with shock and dismay and she clung to him now. Only one word could she utter: "No." The man mournfully nodded his head in confirmatory assent. "Yes." They stood there together, locked in that moment in time and physical proximity, clinging to each other in a world somehow gone mad. Finally Gabby realized that she was compromising this man's professional position and whispered "Thank you for telling me, and I'm so very sorry for your loss, for our loss, for the world's loss." The man patted her hand and said "God bless you, sister," and walked back into the kitchen.

Gabby turned to the group and said "We need to get to a television before we leave."

Mike complained "Gabby, we've got a show to do. This is really outta line. We — "

"Mike! Goddamit, real life is happening all around you! Get your head out of your ass! Someone just shot the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr.! He may be dying!"

He winced at Gabby's berating of him, but then he played back the words in his mind and his jaw dropped open. "What?" he asked dumbly.

"I just spoke to that waiter. He just told me that someone shot Dr. King and he's possibly dying. Now if you don't give a damn to take a couple of minutes to turn on the news and find out what kind of crazy world it is that we're living in that would take one of our most important, noble, brave leaders away from us in such a cruel way, then leave for the concert and I'll walk there later. I don't give a fuck what you think is important just at this precise moment, but I want everyone else to have a chance to decide what they think is important."

Wendy did as she usually did when Mike was in meltdown or paralyzed by one of his character flaws. She went into take-charge mode. "Everyone, come up to Mike's and my suite and we'll turn on the TV. We've got plenty of time to get down to the Garden. It's only a few blocks away." Just as she said this, they heard a bevy of police car sirens wail past the hotel in the direction of the Boston Garden. A fire truck and ambulance followed.

Mike now had a serious look on his face and said "Sheee-it! Let's get upstairs! Wendy, honey, we need to call down to the Garden and see what the situation is going on down there."

They rushed up to Wendy and Mike's room and turned on the television. News of Dr. King's assassination was on all three networks. As they watched the horrific coverage unfold, the phone rang and Wendy answered it. Her face turned pale as she listened to the person talking on the other end of the line.

"I see. Yes, I understand. Yes, of course. If it has to be that way, then what is there to discuss? Yes, please thank the mayor for his consideration in having you call us personally. Yes. Okay. Thank you. Goodbye."

She hung up the phone and turned to face the group. Mike took a step towards her and said "Wendy honey, who was that? What's happened?"

Wendy had a grim look on her face, knowing that what she was about to say was going to touch off one of Mike's famous explosive tantrums, and under the circumstances, it was going to be entirely unjustified. She took a moment to think about how to break it to him so that he wouldn't shame himself in front of everyone. She thought about telling him privately first so that he could have his snit outside everyone's notice, but then everyone would know he'd had to be given this moment and that would be just as humiliating for him. She would just have to give it to him straight between the eyes and hope he could rise to the occasion.

"Okay, guys. That was the mayor's aide. He called to tell us that our concert has been cancelled because there are already small riots and looting underway in the city and in other cities throughout the country. The mayor is afraid to have 14,000 people assembled in one place tonight. And in case you're inclined to feel victimized," she gave Mike a stern look, "he told me they've also cancelled a James Brown concert that's due to be held tomorrow night at the Garden. It's a matter of public safety and that makes it akin to martial law. It's under the mayor's discretion and there's nothing we can do about it. So let's not embarrass ourselves or have a snit over something that has arisen from a great tragedy. Okay? There are people in great pain and mourning and they're lashing out. We have no right to put ourselves on their level of suffering, so let's not lose our dignity or denigrate theirs."

Mike opened his mouth to say something and then just shut it again. He sank down on the couch and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, trying to process a situation that had him completely flummoxed. Wendy went over to him, kneeled in front of him and said, "Mikey, what can I do to help you?"

He looked at her and ran his hand through her wild hair. "Just keep doin' what yer doin'. Teach me how to be human." She smiled at him and laid a hand on his cheek, then sat down on his lap.

Everyone seated themselves in the suite and brought in extra chairs from their own. Nobody wanted to be off on their own. They all wanted to stay together in the same room. The trauma was too great and they knew that as always, there was strength in numbers. As the evening wore on, news coverage shifted from the balcony in front of Room 306 at the Lorraine Hotel in Memphis, Tennessee, the scene of the crime, to pictures of rioting in cities across the country. From time to time, they could hear police sirens pass the hotel, no doubt responding to unrest somewhere in the city of Boston. Shortly after 8 p.m. Boston time, when the Monkees concert should have been starting, Dr. King's death was confirmed.

The next morning, local news stations were warning folks to stay off the streets, but Gabby felt the need to be among those who were in mourning. She reached out to those to whom she felt closest, the students, and found out that Boston University would be holding a service at Marsh Chapel and a rally at Marsh Plaza being called "A Service of Penitence." Along with thousands of faculty, staff and students, Gabby and Micky attended, with the rest of the family in tow.

The Monkees had received a surprising invitation for that evening. The mayor had changed his mind and reinstated the James Brown concert. In consultation with a Black city councilor, he had been advised that cancelling the concert would anger the Black youth community further and might incite a riot on its own. Still, the mayor did not want a huge crowd of people at the Garden, so he and his advisors managed to convince the local public television station to televise the concert and people were strongly encouraged to stay home and watch it on TV. Refunds for the concert tickets were provided, while Brown was compensated for his lost earnings as well as for any legal trouble he anticipated for televising the concert in competition with another one he had just done in another city. The mayor's aide felt bad about having cancelled the Monkees' concert, so he invited them to attend James Brown's performance. 

And so it was that they found themselves present as history was being made. Brown performed magnificently, the city avoided major rioting and damage in contrast to almost all other major cities, and Brown became a major voice in the Black community at that time. After the concert, the Monkees got to meet him and Micky, whose usual solo turn during their concerts included an homage to Brown, gawped and fawned over him and told him about his tribute, performing a few dance moves for him. Brown gave a hearty chuckle and clapped Micky on the back, and showed him how to do it better. "Nah, nahh, man, you gotta move _thissaway_ and then you go down on yo knees! That's it!" as Micky and he performed the move together.

Wendy elbowed Mike in the ribs and whispered "See, aren't you glad you didn't have your usual shit fit? You gotta roll with the punches, my friend. Sometimes life hands you a bad break, and the next thing you know, you're doing something even more way out you never dreamt of in a million years." Mike just nodded and looked on as he watched Micky master the James Brown shimmy and give the man a hug.

When they got back to the hotel, everyone said a quick goodnight and retired to their rooms. There was just too much to process: too much drama, too much emotion, too much wonder. The girls and Robert were flying back to L.A. late the next morning, and the Monkees were on their way to their next tour stop.

Micky and Gabby were very quiet when they reached their room. They were in wordless communication mode. It seemed like talking would be too painful because soon they'd be parting and talking is all they'd have. They wanted to use their deeper communication method while they still could, while a look or a touch was enough to convey their meaning, needs and wants. They took a shower together and caressed each other, priming each other for making love.

Neither wanted anything elaborate. No fantasy, no alternate identities, no tutti frutti. Just real and raw and need-fulfilling lovin'. Gabby took her turn first, climbing atop Micky and coming with comforting satisfaction, a welcome contrast after their exotic antics earlier in the week. Micky was of a similar mindset. He flipped Gabby over on her back, pressed their bodies as close together as he could get them and made love to her until he shuddered with his own relatively quiet (this being Micky the shouter after all) orgasm. No words, just touches, kisses, hugs, feelings and thoughts flowing between them.

Then the tears began. First Gabby, then Micky. They clung to each other, knowing that tomorrow meant goodbye for a few more weeks. Great big sobs wracked both their bodies, and they didn't bother to hide or deny their distress. No brave faces, no philosophical bromides or proverbs to try to smooth things over, just raw emotion. Just let it all out, let it wash over them, own it, share it, let go of it. Finally, their systems purged of all the tension they felt — sexual and emotional — there was nothing left to sustain their energy levels and they fell into deep slumber, tangled in each other's arms.

The next morning, Micky sat on the bed as he watched Gabby finish packing. He had a bit more time than she did and he didn't want to get in her way. He wanted to just make as much eye contact with her and her being as he could, knowing that his eyes would be devoid of her form in less than an hour and for another three weeks or so.

"Gabby, I know this trip ended up turning to ashes. Will you come back out on the road with us, with me again?"

She stopped what she was doing and smiled sympathetically at Micky. "Of course, Micky. You can't take responsibility for the world being wicked and beyond our control. Shit happens, even when you have wonderful things planned. Think of the people who had weddings planned for this weekend, or who gave birth on April 4th. They have no control over that. They can't carry the burden of that date around with them for the rest of their lives. Don't carry this around with you. We'll do this again another time."

Micky walked over to her and hugged her. "Thanks for helping me keep things in perspective, as always, my Gabby."

She laid her head on his shoulder and ran her hand through his curls. She buried her nose in them and sniffed deeply. "Mmmmm, I'm going to miss these. Miss so much about you, but especially these."

"I don't want to list all the things I'll miss about you or I'll start to cry again. I know you may not buy it, Gabby, but I'm not just doing this for myself. I want you and me to be a family. I've done a lot of growing up on the road. Learned a lot about myself, about life and about what you mean to me. When I come home, I want to talk about what I've learned, want to share it with you. Would that be okay?"

Gabby sensed there was a plea for a promise in this request. Something that would sustain Micky for the rest of the tour, but also something more significant than that. Something he was waiting to tell her or ask her when he came home. She didn't know whether she was ready to hear it, but she had to give him the chance to lay it out for her. She made up her mind now.

"Yes, Micky. I want to hear everything when you come home. We'll talk about it all and I'll listen to everything you want to tell me."

His eyes lit up and now he did start to cry again. He masked the extent of his emotion by burying his head in her neck. He hugged her and kissed and sucked her neck, murmuring "You're my every, every, everything."

"I love you with all my heart, my Micky."

Everyone met down in the lobby and each Monkee hugged each guest goodbye. As happened often between Mike and Gabby, two strong-willed individuals, there was a private moment of reconciliation and reassurance that there were no hard feelings for having locked horns the night of the assassination. Gabby knew that she had inside information that Mike was vulnerable to hurt by her friend and wished she could warn him, so she saw his soft underbelly and never saw him as an ogre but always felt his bark was worse than his bite. When it came time to say goodbye to Davy, she felt awkward and tried to turn off her brain as she gave him a perfunctory hug, and she sensed the feeling was mutual. She felt sad that their special bond of friendship seemed to have been riven, but she knew that it was for the best. When she said goodbye to Peter, she mentioned that the girls had all lit candles for his and Dawn's fertility and he looked very touched by their gesture.

So ended their first road trip with the Monkees.


	16. Chapter 16

Micky came straight to Gabby's from the airport. He didn't want to wait to see her. Home meant where she was, not the Pad. That was what he was planning to tell her. He wasn't sure if she was ready to hear it, but he was ready to say it. Just as he had told her he loved her before she had said she loved him, he could no longer be this intimate with her, this committed to her, without telling her how he felt. He was okay with her shutting him down, telling him she wasn't ready. But he needed her to know that he was ready.

Gabby was surprised to see that Micky had his luggage with him as he walked through her front door. She had assumed he'd stop by the Pad and drop off his stuff, maybe take a shower and a nap, check his mail, catch a bite to eat. But he looked like he had come right from the airport. She didn't know what to make of it, this sense of urgency.

"Micky?"

Her monosyllabic greeting was laden with meaning, and he knew all it implied. But first, he needed to just re-establish the connection with her. He dropped his bags in her entryway and pulled her tightly to him, hugging her and pressing her into his body, swaying slightly and humming a tuneless melody into her ear.

"I needed to see you more than anything else. I didn't want to go to Pad. I didn't want to take care of any business. I just wanted to see you. Is that okay?"

"Of course it's okay! What woman wouldn't love to be her lover's top priority?"

She led him to the couch and sat him down. "What can I do for you? Do you want something to eat or drink? Do you want to lie down for a rest? Do you want to change your clothes or have a bath or shower?"

Micky shook his head. "I just want to look at you, touch you, hold you, speak with you and see your expression while you're talking. I want to communicate with you and be in your presence."

"That sounds perfect. I've been starved for that myself. Even more than for sex." Their eyes locked and they both knew the veracity of that statement. The heart of their relationship was not physical, it was emotional. The physical part was just an extension of how they felt about each other.

"Gabby, I, well I've got so much to share with you. Let's start with the small stuff and we can get to the big stuff as we go along."

Gabby sat back and said "You're the director, Micky. Tell me what you want me to know and hear. All of it. What do you want first? Food or a wash?"

"I ate already and I'm pretty clean. Let's stay dressed for now. How about a drink instead. Got any wine?"

"Sure. Red?"

"Always."

She poured their favorite cheap and cheerful red wine and Micky smiled. "You know, Gabby, I'm a wealthy man now. We can afford to drink better. That's one of the things I need to explain to you. I haven't said much about it, because I didn't want it to affect how we related to each other or any decisions we made, but I want to let you in on my financial situation now. You're my best friend, my lover, and the woman I want to spend my life with. Are you ready to receive that information?"

Gabby gulped a swig of cheap wine and thought about it. "Okay, Micky, I guess that makes sense. I know I can be touchy about things like that, me and my feminist attitude about not wanting a guy to support me, but if we do end up making our lives together, I guess it's inevitable that you're going to end up sharing some of that wealth with me. I guess you already did, flying me to Boston and putting me up in that hotel and feeding me. So go ahead. Break it to me."

Micky laughed. "You make it sound like I'm about to tell you how many STDs I have! Okay. Here's the situation. I've made well over a million dollars since we signed our first contract, and I've spent virtually none of it."

Gabby turned pale and her jaw went slack. Micky reached forward and closed her mouth for her. She shook herself back to consciousness and they both laughed.

Gabby said nothing and just waited for Micky to continue. "The reason I brought up the money is because I can afford to do things I want that I couldn't before. Some of the things are stuff I'm pretty sure you're down for, like traveling and going to nicer places, and drinking wine that costs more than two bucks a bottle." She smiled her assent.

"But there's one big thing I'm ready for that I can afford now that I'm not sure you're ready for. Still, I need to tell you I _am_ ready. Not to pressure you or to draw a response from you one way or another, but because if I don't tell you, I'll be lying to you. Just like when I finally told you straight out that I was in love with you. No more euphemisms, I said I love you. You remember that day on the hill at the beach in Monterey?"

Gabby nodded. "Yes, I remember. You said you couldn't be as intimate with me as we were becoming without declaring your love."

Micky nodded. "That's exactly right. Well, I'm at another plateau. I can't hold it inside anymore, Gabby. I need you to know that I love you so much that I can't bear not living with you anymore. I don't want to be apart from you when I'm not on the road. I want our lives to be as close in physical proximity as possible. I understand why you think we're not ready for marriage and I accept that and maybe even agree. But I can't be happy without waking up to you and going to sleep with you and bathing with you and eating with you and dividing household chores and starting a dog family with you when you're ready, though I know that's another level of commitment and I can wait for that until you trust that we're solid. I just literally don't want to live without you, Gabby."

Gabby waited for the reservations and objections to rise to her lips, but they didn't. They weren't in her mouth, her brain or her heart. Everything Micky had said echoed what she had felt when they clung to each other the night before she left him in Boston to return home without him. She felt desolate, bereft, incomplete. Something had shifted in her mind and heart on that trip. Maybe it was the levelheaded maturity he had displayed, or the exquisite care he had taken of her. His attitude towards his fans, his bandmates and the people mourning the loss of their spiritual leader all displayed his essence as a man of character and values, in contrast to others, she reflected somewhat bitterly. Even the way they had processed their feelings about the kinky sex they had experimented with had been sincere and heartfelt. Micky had come a long way in growing up and maturing, which was what she had requested, what she had been holding out for. And now he was telling her that he'd made a shitload of money and had prudently spent almost none of it, and been considerately discreet about it for her benefit. She couldn't deny she was impressed with his personal growth.

But what about her own maturity level? She quickly took stock. She'd been working with a therapist to strip away the lingering side effects of the trauma and trust issues she had from her abusive relationship with Nick. Had she made enough progress in that regard? Well, hadn't she allowed Micky to bind her to a bed and have his way with her body? Didn't she trust him to be respectful and gentle, and hadn't it all turned out as he promised? And had he ever given her cause to compare him to Nick since their brutal reconciliation in the hospital in June? Hadn't he abstained not only from sex but from virtually all physical contact with her while she healed? And had she had a single moment's hesitation about being close to Micky since their restoration of full physical relations? None of those questions had a troubling answer.

She realized that she was ready to share a closer bond with Micky. That she had been yearning for that bond herself every night she spent alone while he was on the road had completely escaped her notice. But now that Micky had spoken his mind, she realized he was speaking for both of them. And this time, she was willing to make herself vulnerable and admit what she had been too blind too see. She had preconceived biases that were outmoded. Things had changed while he was away and she hadn't realized it.

She took the glass of wine out if his hand and crawled into his lap. "You're saying what's in your heart, Micky, but you're speaking for both of us. Let me tell you what just passed through my mind."

After she did a brain dump, Micky looked stunned, pleased and relieved. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a long, thin gift box and handed it to Gabby. "Here. I was hoping I'd be able to give this to you now, but I really doubted it. I think you're ready to receive it." He reached for Gabby's hand and placed the box in it. She looked down at it dumbly.

"Go ahead, open it. It's not an engagement ring or a stick of dynamite, I promise," Micky laughed.

Gabby smiled and removed the wrapping paper and ribbon. She opened the box and inside was a silver necklace with a charm in the shape of a key. She held it aloft and looked at Micky questioningly.

He took it from her and fastened it around her neck. "That's a symbol of our new home together. I didn't want to pick it out without you. I remembered what you said about wedding rings and getting stuck with something you didn't like. I don't know what you want in a home, and it should be a joint decision. But that's why I had to tell you about the money. Otherwise you'd be moving me in here with you."

Again, Gabby looked at Micky dumbly. He ran his hand down the curve of her hair. "Gabby, if we live together, and you think you'd like a dog, we don't have to live in an apartment. It can't have escaped your notice that your two best friends live in houses. Can it?" Now Micky looked dubiously at her, wondering just how out of touch with reality Gabby was.

"Actually, I just assumed they were renting. You mean the guys _own_ those houses?"

Micky laughed. "Yeah, my Gabby. They bought those houses."

She blew out a giant breath, whistled and exclaimed "Whoa!"

Micky cocked his head. "Gabby. I've seen where you grew up. Why are you in awe of their wealth?"

"Well, first of all, my dad didn't get to buy a house that size until he was in his forties and worked at his career for almost twenty years. And second of all, I told you, my folks might be wealthy and materialistic, but I'm not and had more or less resigned myself to living humbly. I sort of took a vow of poverty when I decided I wasn't going to go to college to get my Mrs. degree like most girls."

"Is it going to be a problem for you to let me buy a house for us to live in?"

"Well, let's think about it practically. What sense does it make to rent if you can afford to buy if that's what you want to do, and who am I to stop you from doing what you want with your own money? But I'd want to pay you rent, Micky. Especially if we're not married, and maybe even if we ever get married I'd want to contribute to our economy. Is that going to be a problem for you?"

Now it was Micky's turn to wrestle with a concept that was foreign to his way of thinking. "Well, if you're going to stretch your comfort zone by letting me spend money on you, I'll stretch my comfort zone by accepting rent I don't think it's necessary for you to pay me. That way we can both stay true to our own desires while somewhat compromising on values influenced primarily by gender theories. Does that sound reasonable?"

Gabby laughed and said "Sure. The way you put it, it sounds like a bunch of horse shit, but I need to do what's right and to me, that's what's right. So we have a deal?" She held out her hand.

"Deal." Micky took her hand in his and kissed her hand. As was his custom, the sealing of one of their deals included his lips traveling up her arm and transforming into an encompassing embrace. They separated and just stared into each other's eyes, trying to adjust to their new agreement, their new reality, their future.

Micky rubbed Gabby's arms vigorously and bounced up and down excitedly. "So, when can we go house hunting, and where should we look?"

Gabby shrugged her shoulders and said "Do I really get that much say as to the where? I feel awkward about that part because you're buying it. In terms of when, I'd like to do it right away. I want us to be with you as soon as possible." She smiled reassuringly at him, knowing her first question was going to cause upset or at least consternation.

Micky frowned despite Gabby's attempt to get him to smile. "Gabby, you've got to get it out of your head that you're some poor relation or lodger I'm taking in. You're my partner. I'm hoping to convince you to become my wife. It was always going to be the case that one of us was going to make more money than the other. Even when I met you I was making more than you. I realize it's off the charts now, but it's still the same principle. I don't want you getting hung up on the money. So can we start the conversation over? I mean, okay, now I know you're as anxious as I am to get started house hunting, which is thrilling. Now, where would you like to live, or don't you really care?"

Gabby smiled a shy surrender to Micky's sensible logic. "You're right, Captain. I cannot deny the logic you have set forth so eloquently and sensibly. Okay, well, maybe considering your profession, we ought to consider privacy and security as our two major priorities before we think about anything else. I don't want your fans staking out our house and I don't want you to feel like you can't be at home where you live. Is there a place where rock stars tend to live?"

Micky said "Well, a lot of our friends live in Laurel Canyon or the Hollywood Hills."

"I would need to be reasonably close to work, so either of those places would work fine for commuting."

"Why don't we find a realtor and see what's out there? Probably Mike or Pete already know someone to refer us to. I assume that's how they found their places. So that's that settled." Micky snuggled in closer to Gabby and started to plant small kisses on her face, neck and throat. "Now, I want to take my big glass of wine into your bathtub and talk about all the things we want for our dream home. How many bedrooms, can we have a pool (the answer better be yes!), do you want a garden (I assume that answer to that is yes!), and will there be enough room for a dog or two (the yard will have to be able to be fenced in)."

"Wow, it sounds like you haven't thought this through at all, Micky," Gabby joked, as she allowed him to pull her up off the couch towards the bathroom. He grabbed the bottle and her glass and shuffled her through the door and started stripping her down. As he disrobed her, he kissed each part of her and said "Hi, I've missed you."

Within a month, Micky and Gabby had settled in to a quaint wooden house in Laurel Canyon in what could legitimately be called an artists' colony. Their immediate neighbor across the street was singer Joni Mitchell, and other nearby residents included musicians such as Alice Cooper, Carole King, John and Michelle Phillips, Denny Doherty and Mama Cass of the Mamas & The Papas, Jim Morrison, and Frank Zappa. Close friends Stephen Stills and Mama Cass lived nearby, and of course Peter and Dawn were also neighbors. Peter and Dawn's house was known as a notorious party house, and even though Peter was a family man now, or at least a married man trying to make a family, his house was always full of drug addled partiers who often ran around naked, and even Peter myself liked to wear as few or no clothes at all. Dawn was pretty easy going about it as long as no one was having sex in their bed, in keeping with the ground rules they set when they were partying in Crosby's suite at the Monterey Pop Festival.

Micky and Gabby's house was on two acres of land that was surrounded by woods and fencing. It had a pool and a waterfall fountain, as well as several sundecks. The house looked like a Swiss chalet with timbered beams. The main room had a large stone fireplace, and the realtor had told them the house had originally been a hunting lodge.

Micky had a large workshop and other spaces for all his various do-it-yourself projects and hobbies — woodworking, photography, mechanical tinkering and science experiments. He also built a home recording studio. For Gabby, there was a library housed in its own room, which contained both their book collections and Micky's favorite magazines, like _Scientific American_ , _Science Illustrated_ , _Popular Mechanics_ , as well as Gabby's fashion magazines and the _Seventeen Magazine_ subscription she still had since she was a girl with Wendy, only now she had the space capacity to keep and house her back issues, which delighted her.

Two features that Gabby specifically requested, aside from the library, that Micky was happy to make sure the house was equipped with were a large sunken bathtub for them to luxuriate in, and a Jacuzzi in the backyard. A bath together wasn't just a luxury, it was a necessity in terms of maintaining communication, as far as they both were concerned, and they had squeezed into many tiny tubs over the year they had been together. The Jacuzzi was just a sensual treat that they both enjoyed that undoubtedly enhanced their mood and sex life.

In order to preserve their privacy and protect their safety, Micky rigged up a system with speakers on their wooden front gate so that people seeking entrance into the house would have to announce themselves. Still, groupies sometimes managed to find the house, and on occasion, Micky and Gabby would take refuge at Joni's house.

Micky was basically a social animal, and he often held parties at the house. Gabby didn't mind, but she decided that if he was going to have them they should at least be civilized, so she made an effort to learn how to entertain, if not actually cook. She found a decent caterer to feed her guests good food, and she locked up certain rooms to protect their few valuables and discourage immodest behavior in the bedrooms. She had been to the parties at Peter and Dawn's house and noticed that the informal atmosphere encouraged people to mistreat their home and take advantage of their good natures, though that might also have something to do with the fact that Pete and Dawn were usually too stoned or out of it to look after their property's well-being. Still, Gabby wanted to maintain dignity while allowing everyone to enjoy themselves, just as it had been at the Pad. That was her minimum standard and she wouldn't tolerate less.

It was a Saturday morning and they had been in the house for about a month. Having just finished a lazy session of morning sex, Micky scooped Gabby up into his arms and asked "How would you like to start making a family today?" Gabby gave him a look of alarm.

"Micky, am I tripping, or did you just ask me to have a baby with you?"

Micky shook his head and laughed. "Nah, nah, I did NOT just ask you to make a baby with me. I _asked_ you if you're ready to start making a family."

"I remember once you asked me to translate something for you because you didn't have your female logic translator with you. I am now going to ask you the same because I seem to have misplaced my Mickster translator."

He leaned in to her ear and said "Arf, arf!" and licked her cheek. "Dog family, Gabby! Do you want to get started looking for a dog? Are you ready?"

Gabby rolled over on her side cracking up as Micky continued to bark and lick her, tickling her in the ribs and pretending his hands were paws. Gasping between giggles, she said "Oh, thank god, I thought you had skipped a groove and gone all Nesmith on me and were going to try to boss me around and tell me I had to start pumping out kids for you!"

"Ahh, come on, you make him sound like a tyrant. He's not that bad."

Gabby considered what Micky had said about the girl code versus sharing things with him and decided to divulge what Wendy had said about her plans for not having kids. "Yeah, well, we'll see what happens when he hears that Wendy has no plans for giving him any little Robert Michael Juniors."

Micky looked thunderstruck. "You're shittin' me!"

"Nope. Now, Micky, this goes against the girl code, so you have to keep this to yourself. You can't go blabbing about this with Mike. But we all were talking about kids when we were in Boston and Wendy dropped the bombshell. And she's _not_ planning on warning Mike about this before he pops the question, though if he's fool enough to ask her to marry him without asking her himself about her intentions, then he probably deserves the disappointment he gets."

Micky shook his head and just said "Man, that sucks. I suppose she has a good reason for not wanting kids, but she should tell him."

"Yeah, you think I didn't chew her ass out when she mentioned that? Of course I did, but you know Wendy. She goes her own way. That's why I call her The Maverick. And you know what, as soon as I had said my peace, she attacked our relationship again, so it does no good to try to talk any sense into her. She just strikes out like a rattlesnake. I've had it with her dumping on us and told her so. I guess us moving in together will earn me a dispensation from her snarky remarks. Maybe we ought to get married before them just to spite her."

Micky grinned "You say the word and I'm there, Gabby."

She took his cheeks in her hand and squeezed them until his lips were squished together and said "Listen, Bub, you just got my ass shacked up with you. Don't press your luck. But let's get back to where this convo started. Dog children. Are you really serious? And can we get a pug first?"

"Yes, I'm serious. If you're ready, I'm rarin' to go. I did the research already and there's a breeder who lives nearby. Her lady dog — she called her a bitch but I just can't do that, it sounds rude — her lady dog had puppies and she said we could come by and pick one out. They're going fast, though, so we should go right away if you're ready."

Gabby jumped up from the bed and started rummaging through her clothes looking for something to wear. Then she tore into the bathroom to get clean and brush her teeth. Then she dashed back out to the bedroom and saw Micky just sitting in the bed with an amused look on his face and she tugged on his arm.

"Come on, Micky, we've got to get ready and go!"

His eyes were shining with affection and joy. "You slay me. I'm really happy to see you this excited about becoming a parent with me."

She leaned over and kissed him. "I can't wait, Micky. It feels right. Thank you for finding all the information and making this possible. The home, the yard, everything."

He reached for her hair and ran his fingers through it. "I'd do much more for you if you'd let me, Gabby. You're my everything."

"You're my dearest love, Micky. Until I meet our doggie. Then all bets are off." She winked at him and tugged him towards the bathroom.

They came home a few hours later with a fawn colored whirling dervish with a black mask and black ears. Schmooshy Levitt-Dolenz immediately made himself at home. He found plenty of mischief to make, chewing on anything in his path, including the baseboards, Gabby's only decent pair of heels for the rare occasion when she had to interview someone from the Establishment, and Micky's leather guitar case. This, despite Micky and Gabby having spent a fortune on toys and bones and all manner of chewing and teething doohickeys at the pet store on the way home. Eventually he ran out of steam, however, and just as Micky was reconsidering the wisdom of agreeing to become a pet parent, he spotted the pug fast asleep inside his moccasin.

The next issue of great consternation came at bedtime. Micky was immovable on the point that the dog should not sleep in the bedroom with them. Gabby agreed, in theory, but as they were trying to fall asleep, she couldn't bear to listen to the pup whine and scratch at the closed bedroom door. She got up and tried to settle him into a dog bed in the bathroom and close the door to give him his own, small, safe space, but he continued to whine and scratch. After two nights of this, she caved and begged Micky to let her bring the dog into the bedroom with them. He agreed but insisted that the dog stay on the ground. That lasted about fifteen minutes' worth of whining and scratching, until Micky himself reached down and scooped Schmooshy up and plopped him on the bed. He promptly insinuated his scruffy little body between Micky and Gabby and immediately fell asleep. Every night Micky tried to keep him out and the dog would always end up in the bed faster and faster, until Micky just gave up, much to Gabby's relief and amusement.

Of course, as with all newborn children, Schmooshy was exhausting. For starters, they had to tend to the little one's bathroom needs, which meant late night and even middle of the night walks. He was a small dog with a tiny bladder, and when he had to go, he had to go. He would whine and scratch and fuss and if they weren't on their toes, they'd end up with a puddle on the carpet or hardwood floors, and occasionally the bed. After cleaning up the umpteenth "accident" off the floor, Micky grimly joked they should have named the dog Puddles. In short, they were sleep-deprived and frazzled.

Also, their little one seriously cramped their sex life. They couldn't just go at it whenever they wanted. No matter where they chose to have sex, the dog seemed to want to get in on the act. He couldn't entertain himself while they gave each other their undivided attention, and he couldn't be corralled in another room without whining and scratching at the door and leaving a present on the floor. Once, when Gabby was pleasuring Micky, Schmooshy began to alert that he needed to be walked urgently. Micky groaned with frustration and Gabby smugly taunted "Micky, what do you think it would be like if we had a human baby? At least you can just put him out in the yard and let him take care of himself for a couple of seconds in a pinch. A real baby wouldn't be so low-maintenance!" Micky sputtered, pulled up his pants and stomped downstairs to let the dog out, as Gabby silently shook with laughter. When he returned, Gabby was casually reading a magazine, thumbed a page without looking up and asked "How's fatherhood lookin' now, Papa Dolenz?"

Micky's solution was multi-fold. He signed the three of them up for training classes. He also built Schmooshy a crate that resembled a tiny fort, padded with lots of blankets and toys, which he trained him to be banished to for short periods of time, so that he and Gabby could have privacy when they needed it. Finally, he built an outdoor pen in the backyard that was coyote-proof for Schmooshy to get some exercise and pee and poop to his heart's content. And peace reigned o'er the Levitt-Dolenz house once more.


	17. Chapter 17

The guys went back into the studio to record _Headquarters_. It was an idyllic experience in contrast to their previous records in that they had total creative control and they were playing their own instruments. They did bring in another musician to play bass when Peter was planning to play keyboards, and they had a couple of spots where they had incidental instruments played by others, such as on a gorgeous song called _Shades of Grey_ , which included cello and French horn, but in the main, it was a true Monkees production. Still, as Micky had described for Gabby, there were disturbing personality and ambition clashes happening between the guys, though mostly driven by Michael's difficult personality. Micky was hopeful that if they could get through this process and pick up both critical and popular acclaim, it might go a long way towards papering over the fissures that were forming between the members of the group and make it less likely that they would irreparably tear.

Micky's hopes soared when the label conveyed an invitation to them for a promotional tour to the United Kingdom by the same outfit that handled the Beatles, with an eye toward arranging a series of concerts at a later date. His good mood didn't last long, however, when Mike let him know that he and Wendy would be traveling over there on their own and had no interest in making it a family affair. Peter announced that he would not be making the trip, giving no explanation. Davy was planning on going, but he too was going to travel on his own. So Micky's joy was somewhat dulled by the fact that the family seemed to be fracturing. Or rather, he was fairly pragmatic about it, but his heart bled for Gabby, who wept bitterly when she heard the news.

Gabby was planning on taking the trip when calamity struck. Literally, a strike of union workers occurred, and her editor asked her to stay behind to cover the story. She couldn't refuse, not only because it was her professional responsibility, but because she felt a duty to support the union workers. She would be on the picket lines with them and would need to help them organize and negotiate the permits for their demonstration. She just couldn't get away. So Micky took the trip without Gabby and Michael and Wendy didn't bother to invite him to join them for whatever they were planning despite knowing he'd be on his own. He said he didn't care, but it did sting a little. Still, Micky decided to make the most of his time and he did.

Micky had the time of his life. He went shopping on Carnaby Street and was photographed buying up half the stores, posing in the latest fashions.

He met Paul McCartney at a disco and was invited to hang out with him at his house and heard new Beatles music before any other American had, like Strawberry Fields and Penny Lane.

He was invited to a recording session by the Beatles and heard another of their new songs. He was delighted to be greeted by John Lennon as "Monkee Man." He did end up seeing Mike and Wendy because they were staying at the same hotel, and when they found out he had made friends with Paul McCartney, they asked if they could tag along when they heard he was planning on meeting him at a club. He good naturedly invited them along. Micky and Mike did their promotional biz together and separately, appearing on TV and radio shows and giving interviews. Davy did his own thing, visiting different parts of England and appearing solo with other media outlets.

To make up for missing the UK promotional tour, Gabby accompanied Micky on a short tour of Canadian concert dates, after Robert and Lynda agreed to stay at the house and look after Schmooshy. While he was on the road, Micky wrote a song recounting his memories of his trip to London called _Randy Scouse Git_ , which would be included on the _Headquarters_ album. Little did they know that it would become a huge hit in the U.K., reaching number 2 on the charts. Gabby and many industry insiders called it Micky's finest work.

_Headquarters_ was released about two and a half months later, and it contained three Nesmith tunes, two songs written by all four Monkees, Micky's British travelogue, a song called _For Pete's Sake_ that turned out to be an anthem for peace, love and understanding for the Monkees and a song of great significance in their oeuvre which Pete co-wrote with a buddy, a song that the Monkees wrote but credited to one of their technicians as a sign of goodwill, and the rest written by outside writers of their own choosing.

The mix of songs reflected their eclectic tastes and styles and strengths, as other past albums had before, but this time there was no bubblegum to be found. If a song was catchy and had a good beat, it was also imbued with soul, meaningful lyrics and innovative use of instruments. Peter really stretched the boundaries by playing a range of keyboards and also the banjo, while Mike contributed a new instrument he had taught himself, the ethereal pedal steel guitar. Micky's _Randy Scouse Git_ benefited from his use of timpani drums, and he also played a new instrument — the zither. One of their most innovative songs was their self-composed _Zilch_ , a spoken fugue of nonsense phrases that evoked the trippy state of mind people that their generation often found themselves in on their free time.

They were pleased with the album, and apparently so were their fans. _Headquarters_ shot straight to number 1 on the Billboard 200 chart in the U.S. and was number 2 in the U.K. It stayed at number 1 on the Billboard chart for one week only, however, when the worst possible of timing of events came to pass. The Beatles released _Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band_ the following week, which bumped _Headquarters_ down to the number 2 spot, where it sat for 11 consecutive weeks while _Sgt. Pepper's_ maintained the top spot. _Headquarters_ sold well and went gold, but sold significantly fewer units than the Monkees' first two albums. Since their bid for creative freedom was linked to sales, the guys took a bath financially. Still, they had accomplished something significant and aside from Mike, they refused to lose faith or denigrate the project.

They were slated to do a 30-city U.S. tour over the course of the summer to promote _Headquarters_ , but first came a performance at the Hollywood Bowl, a storied venue for live music performances. The guys turned in a well-choreographed performance with many costume changes, lots of amusing banter, groundbreaking, creative visuals projected on a screen (to which Gabby contributed suggestions of visuals that included film clips of freedom marches, anti-war demonstrations, and the Sunset Strip Riots during Davy's solo on _I Wanna Be Free_ ), and most important, a polished, hard-driving, entertaining live concert that pleased the fans and critics. There was only one dicey moment, when an overeager Micky took a dive into the fountain, forgetting that he was wearing a live mic and narrowly avoiding getting electrocuted at the last moment by tossing the microphone to the side. He also upset the Establishment by invading what apparently was hallowed territory, but this helped their street cred as far as the Monkees and the music scribes were concerned. Gabby was just relieved that she hadn't ended up a single parent at such a young age.

Gabby was back to communicating with Micky via phone and getting substandard satisfaction from her electronic lover. She invited the girls over for a get-together, minus Wendy of course, who was on the road with the guys. This turned out to be a not unwelcome state of affairs, as Wendy was no one's flavor of the month at the moment. She had become very high-handed and exclusive since she and Mike had spent a couple of nights as guests of John and Cynthia Lennon at their home on their London trip. She was acting as if her shit didn't stink and didn't seem to have time for her old friends anymore.

Gabby distributed Chinese takeout to Dawn, Jan and Lynda. As Micky once taught her the French phrase, _plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose_ (the more things change, the more they stay the same), Gabby still couldn't cook and she mostly ate takeout, just like when she and Dawn lived together. One thing that _was_ different was that the hooch she poured out for the girls was a lot classier. Micky insisted that they buy better wine and stock a full bar with costly liquor, so the girls had their choice of much better drinkies, to their great delight. Strangely, though, Dawn declined and asked for Perrier or tonic water.

Gabby fixed her with a suspicious eye and said "Okay, Dawn. What's up? I've never seen you turn down a drink since the first night I moved in to our old hovel. Dish. Are you sick? Should I be worried?"

Dawn squirmed around a little uncomfortably and said "Well, no, you shouldn't be worried, but you should really mind your own beeswax, Gabby. I really didn't want to spill the beans for a little while longer..."

The light of comprehension dawned on all three girls' faces and they started to scream and shout and flap their hands and jump around. Gabby yelled "Yer preggers, Dawn! Aaaaagh!!!"

Dawn blushed and bobbed her head in the affirmative. The girls dog piled on her and smothered her with hugs and kisses. She pushed them away from her and protested "Hey, be careful, you're going to smoosh the sproutling!"

Gabby started dashing around the house looking for Schmooshy and found him gnawing on one of Micky's shoes he left behind. She scooped him up and held him aloft and shrieked "Schmooshy, you're going to have a cousin! Aren't you excited?"

The girls looked at Gabby like she had lost her mind, but indulged her madness and ignored it. She liked to believe she was the first momma of the group and who were they to disabuse her of the daft idea?

Now that the cat was out of the bag, Dawn had a favor to ask. "Gabby, would you mind having a party here for me and Pete to make our announcement officially to the family? I don't want it to be at our house. Our place is getting a reputation as a den of iniquity, and people drop in at all hours of the day and night, and Pete is such a pushover that he never sends them away. I'd like our party with the family to be just us and to not resemble a hippie love-in. Could you do that for us when the guys get back?"

"Of course! Do you want it to be a baby shower? Do you want me to invite your family and other friends?"

Dawn shook her head. "No, my mamá and abuela will want to do that. I just want to celebrate with the Monkees family. I'm upset that we seem to be drifting apart. Pete's upset about it, too. He doesn't act on his feelings when he's upset, though. He just gets apathetic and goes and crawls into a ball and withdraws. I want to fight for this bond we have. Don't you girls?"

The all nodded their heads and murmured affirmation. No one slagged on Wendy, but it seemed to go without saying that the blame for the fissure and distance in the group could be laid primarily at her feet and also Mike's, but mostly hers because she had a pretty decent ability to get him to come to heel if she wanted him to. So they decided to just plan the party and invite them and hope they showed up. The girls were sworn to secrecy until the guys came home and the invitations went out, except Gabby, who would have to get Micky's okay for the party.

So now the evening became much more jovial and everyone took turns fawning over Gabby's dog baby and praising what a good job she and Micky were doing training him. She let her hair down and told them all the hilarious dirt on how Micky was finding being a parent more challenging than he had anticipated, and how smugly satisfied she felt in having put her foot down on not agreeing to have kids with him, particularly right away.

"I do have to admit, though, that I may have softened my position just a teensy bit on having kids. Micky is such an adoring doggie dad, and he's been very responsible about taking it seriously that we raise this dog the right way. He got us all signed up for training classes, he went out of his way to make sure he built all sorts of environments for him to feel safe and comfortable, and he's been sharing all the care and feeding of him. But still, he throws himself around like a little brat when he has to do something for the dog sometimes and I have to remind him what it would be like if he had a human baby. It's pretty funny. Especially that one time when I was giving him head and I had to stop in the middle so he could take the dog out to go to the bathroom." The girls erupted with laughter at this tale.

Next on the agenda was all the girls wanted to get a look at Gabby's vibrator. She brought it out and they all ooohed and aaahed at it. They talked about how hard it was to stay sane and satisfied while the guys were away. Jan surprised everyone by mentioning that Davy had asked her whether she wanted to have a side dude for when he was away. This was beyond comprehension to Gabby and Dawn, but Lynda just chuckled and shook her head.

Lynda said "You know, that doesn't really surprise me, if I really think about it. I think he probably was seeing the situation with his eyes and couldn't imagine how you could be faithful to him and go long periods of time without sex because that is just not something he's ever done, though he did go through a dry period before he met you and after I broke up with him. Would you mind telling us what you said?"

Jan replied "Of course I don't mind saying, that's why I brought it up! I told him I didn't need a side dude, that I was in love with him and would never sleep with another guy but him as long as I was in a relationship with him. But I told him that if I ever got unbearably horny, I _would_ consider getting a side chick." She kept a straight face for about ten seconds and then burst out laughing. The girls all followed suit.

Dawn gasped with laughter. "What did he say to that?"

Jan rolled her eyes. "I'm sad to say he thought I was serious and said 'Oh, right, well, erm, that's alright then. I didn't take you for a switch-hitter, but whatever works.' Then I had to explain I was joking and _that_ was a little awkward. He made a joke about wanting to watch when he got home and I rolled my eyes and then we dropped the matter, but I got the feeling that that would have been just fine with him."

Gabby felt like it was time to acquaint Jan with her own past with Nick's titillation with girl-on-girl sex. She gave a quick summary of her story and assured her that it was just a guy thing, not a sign that Davy was a sicko like Nick. She offered to buy vibrators for all her friends and pass them out at the baby party for Dawn, and one and all accepted her offer but didn't want to wait that long. They passed her the fundage and she tucked the money in her purse, promising to have them mailed instead, giggling about their pressing need. "I feel like an Avon lady," she observed with some amusement. "Maybe I could make this a side career for other rocker's wives and girlfriends."

The U.S. tour somehow got interrupted by a U.K. tour when the opportunity arose to play several dates at Empire Pool, Wembley. Micky begged Gabby to accompany him this time, so she asked her boss to let her go. She flew out to meet him and found him thoroughly and comfortably ensconced now in the music and social scene, hanging out with members of the Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Who, Eric Clapton, Dusty Springfield, Lulu (the Monkees' opening act) and many other glitterati. Micky asked Gabby for a dispensation to get as wasted as he wanted to, citing the rationale that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. She observed that everyone else was using psychedelic drugs and behaving in a rather civilized manner, so she felt reassured that she was in no real danger. She decided to hang out with Ringo Starr's pregnant wife Maureen, who was not partaking. Feeling that she had at least one person who was sane upon whom she could rely, she said Micky should go ahead and enjoy himself and she'd make it back to the hotel on her own.

Micky partied with them in an epic fashion and even treated himself to the use of psychedelic drugs, got totally wasted with them and went pub hopping with them, arriving back at his hotel at dawn. Unfortunately, he was recognized by a bunch of fans and was cornered in a public park, but he was able to negotiate a peaceful standoff with them and they spent about an hour chatting and singing songs together before he received a police escort back to his hotel room.

When he got back safe and sound, Gabby was amused by the episode and he was relieved that she didn't mind that he had used drugs despite swearing off them for her. She just shrugged her shoulders and said "When in Rome, do as the Romans do, I guess." Micky thanked her for her understanding and she just nodded. She wondered whether this really was a one-time thing, or whether there would be further erosion of standards in the future. She decided not to worry about it. Keep it in the day, do what's in front of you.

Wendy and Mike outdid everyone by buying a hugely expensive car, a mini-Cooper, and having it shipped back over to America. Gabby wondered about their lifestyle and how they could afford such things, until she remembered Micky's tutorial about how Mike scooped up significantly more money per album by writing songs and being guaranteed a slot for them. On their latest album, he had a total of three sole writing credits and two shared credits with the other guys.

For the balance of the U.S. tour, Micky had convinced the label to sign their old friend Jimi Hendrix, with whom they had jammed at the Monterey Pop Festival, to be their opening act. It was an unbelievable turn of events that such a talented musician was now going to be opening for them, when just a year ago they had met him and been awed by his talents and they had been nobodies and were grateful to receive the time of day from him. Unfortunately, Jimi and the Monkees were not a marriage made in heaven. Though his music was brilliant and he got along extremely well with the Monkees (he stayed with Peter and Dawn, and even managed to smash up Peter's car with Peter harboring no hard feelings towards him), the Monkees' fans and their chaperones did not take to Jimi's hard-driving guitar sounds and highly sexualized performance moves. As he wowed the Monkees, who stood backstage listening to him do barely human things with a guitar and an amp, the teenyboppers screamed for Davy and demanded they bring on the Monkees. After playing only seven shows, Jimi had had enough. He gave the audience the third-fingered salute and left the stage, never to return. He didn't hold it against the Monkees, and they remained good friends.

The label started making changes to capitalize on the Monkees' popularity and time. First, it started to arrange for the guys to record their next album while on the road. This was exhausting and made the tour even more high pressure and fractious, eliminating most of the good vibes generated by the process of creating _Headquarters_. Another change was that certain concerts were now being recorded in order to release them as a live album, a decision that was made unilaterally by the label and had not been negotiated as part of their contract. They had no say over which concerts would be recorded, nor how the record would be packaged. Since the sound system used at the live performances was primitive at best, and the roar of the crowd and screaming obliterated much of the music in-person, they weren't convinced that any modern recording equipment would be able to adequately capture their performance and it would result in a substandard record, adding fuel to the flames of their critics that they were just a semi-talented garage band. The label also wanted them to start making small films of their songs, and on their one day off in Chicago, herded them into a studio called The Rainbow Room to film videos of them singing and dancing and larking about to some of their hits from the album. This too was an extra, uncompensated chore they hadn't pre-authorized. Finally, Bob Rafelson decided that he wanted to play director and at the last minute cobbled together a camera crew to shoot a documentary of one of their concert performances, including canned interviews of them and bits of shtick he directed them to do. The label was trying to turn them into actors, and they didn't like it. And once again, the issue of compensation never came up.

The combined 30-city and U.K. tour took four and a half months. The guys limped home like they had been away on a tour of duty in a far off combat theater. Micky had made every effort to fly home when he could, or to fly Gabby out to see him when she could get the time away from work, but this had been brutal. The only thing that made it less painful for both of them was the knowledge that neither of them was going through it alone, that the guys all suffered the same (except Mike, which was becoming increasingly galling) and the girls had each other to console one another. Gabby had told Micky about her shopping assignment for electronic lovers for all the girls (though come to think of it, why Lynda needed one since she had Robert right on the spot was a mystery that Micky raised that Gabby hadn't considered).

As he entered the house, Schmooshy spotted him and began to yap at him challengingly. He said "Hey there, baby boy, you've grown so much," but the dog continued to bark. Gabby was alerted to Micky's presence by the ruckus the dog was making and when she looked at Micky's face, her heart broke. He was on his knees, his hand extended to the dog, but it wouldn't go near him. It had been two months since Micky had been in the house, and the dog was treating Micky as an intruder. Micky was crushed with disappointment, betrayal and heartbreak. He sat down on the ground, buried his hands in his face and began to sob.

Gabby rushed over to Micky and embraced him, which made Schmooshy realize Micky was a friend and not a foe. Once he was willing to get close to Micky, he recognized his smell and started to yip and cry and throw himself into Micky's arms with frenzied glee. Micky looked up through his tears and began to smile, saying, "Yeah, it's me, it's Papa! I've missed you sooooo much! Come 'ere, boy. Mmmmmmwah!" He kissed him and hugged him but the little fluffer was too excited and broke free, wriggling out of his arms and running circles around his knees, jumping up on his legs and demanding to be picked up again.

Gabby smiled and shed a tear or few herself, then asked "Do I get a greeting, Papa Dolenz?"

Micky tucked the dog under his armpit and embraced Gabby with his other arm, kissing her like a man who hadn't eaten in a week. His mouth was hungry for hers and subsumed hers completely. Gabby managed to gasp "Let's put the little one in his outside pen and say a proper hello." Micky charged out to the backyard, gave the dog another kiss and hug, deposited him with a bowl of water and a bone in his garden playpen, then returned to the house, leaving the door open so he could hear if the dog needed anything.

Micky went back inside and found Gabby shifting from foot to foot, buzzing with anticipation. "Where?" she asked, wanting to know where he wanted to make love. They had so many rooms, so many choices.

"Here. Now." Micky didn't want to waste a second, a minute, and he didn't want to be too far from the dog, either. He wanted to be close to both the beings he loved and felt responsible for. He walked over to the fireplace, threw some cushions and blankets down, started the fire even though it was daytime still, and drew Gabby towards it.

"I want to undress you and watch the light of the fire dance on your skin. It was summer the last time we lived in this house together, and now it's fall. So we'll celebrate with a fire."

He started to undress Gabby and she undressed him. It started out orderly but soon got sloppy and unruly and frenzied. They were both starving for each other.

"Micky, I need you right now."

Micky nodded. "I know. I feel the same way. It's going to be fast the first time."

Once he had her naked and lying down on the rug with a pillow under her head, he took inventory of all her body parts with his mouth, kissing and sucking. The fire warmed her but he felt sure that she was radiating a certain amount of heat on her own. He had barely touched her when he dipped his fingers into her slit and found she was already primed and ready for him. He looked at her and she nodded her assent.

He swapped places with her, lying down on the rug with his head propped up. She now did the circuit of his body with her tongue, taking a moment to tickle his testicles with her tongue, which made him gasp with pleasure. She licked his entire penis and was very tempted to just continue on, but Micky stopped her and eased her up and urged her to mount him. She slid him inside her and tucked her legs behind her like a bird's soaring wings. She moved up and down on him, rubbing and squeezing him and letting him press himself deep inside of her. It was a fast finale. She was moaning and feeling that ancient spiritual bond that men and women do when they complete the ultimate act of love. It felt as old as time, as old as the Earth, like she and he were stripped down to the base elements of what the creator had used to make them, so fundamental and perfectly designed did that function seem. She felt gratitude that women had been given the gift of the ability to have pleasure, not just the responsibility of creating life. Her orgasm had nothing to do with making a baby. It had to be logical that not every woman had to have a baby if she had sex, right? Else why would God have given her a clitoris?

Micky waited for her bliss to subside, then, remaining on his back, he pressed himself deep inside her. He made love to her from below, kissing her breasts as he rutted against her, diverting some of his kisses to her mouth and neck, and then his body stiffened and he let loose a mighty shout. He could hear the dog yapping back, perhaps thinking Micky had learned a new way of communicating with him. This made Micky laugh, which made Gabby laugh, which made both of them laugh.

She gave him a smoldering kiss and said "Welcome home, Daddy D."

Micky chuckled. "You're not gonna let me forget that I'm a daddy, are you?"

"Nope. Just in case you get any wild ideas about having real kids. Gonna make you think long and hard about it."

Micky ran a hand through Gabby's hair and asked "Do you think you might change your mind about that?"

Gabby said "I don't know. If I had my choice or my heart of heart's content, I wouldn't have kids. They're not my style. But watching you grow up over this last year, I can see that one day you might be mature enough to be a dad, and I don't want to lose you. If it meant losing you, I might agree. Is that a good enough reason to have kids, though, I ask myself? I'm not so sure. And after spending most of four months without you, I'm not really keen on the idea of it. So I would have to say that as long as you've got the lifestyle you have right now, the answer is still no. If you changed your touring schedule or you changed careers, maybe. And the answer could still be no if my own career turns out to be something that precludes it. That's the best I can do for you, Micky."

"Well, that's not a hard no. That's different than where you were this time last year. How come we didn't celebrate our anniversary? And when _is_ our anniversary?"

Gabby stopped to consider both questions. "I'll answer the second question first. I think our anniversary should be the date of the first time we made love, so that would be sometime in May. I'm sure we could figure it out if we go back and look at the calendar. In terms of why we didn't celebrate, I think it's because you guys were still on the road, though since we hadn't established an anniversary, that's not really fair to blame that reason."

Micky looked sad and disappointed. "But you know me, I'm normally very sentimental. I was going to ask you to move in with me after we'd been going out after a year. I was going to key it to that date, or some other big milestone, but in the end, it was just the day I came home from the tour."

"That's okay, Micky. You did it as soon as you could. That shows you didn't let the grass grow under your feet. I think that's very meaningful. It was the first thing you did the minute you got off the plane. That's very meaningful and romantic." She put her hands in his hair and ran her fingers through his curls.

Micky looked at her shyly through his long eyelashes. "Gee, I didn't really think about that. I guess you're right. But can we figure out that date and celebrate it next year? I'd really like to have an anniversary. I mean, at least until I can convince you to marry me."

"What's stopping you?" Gabby fixed him with a sincere, serious look. She wasn't joking, she wasn't being sarcastic. She wasn't shucking and jiving. She was proposing.

Micky's eyes widened with startled incomprehension. "W-w-what?" he stammered.

"What makes you think I'd be hard to convince at this point if you asked me to marry you? Would you rather I ask you to marry me?"

Micky gulped and closed his eyes in deep thought. "Well, uhm, let's see, I think we said that if we ever decided to get married, we'd decide it together and then you'd let me surprise you with a proposal."

Gabby sighed and said "Oh, yeah, you're right about that. I forgot. Okay. So how about it Micky? Do you want to decide together?"

"But wait, Gabby! Isn't that like you asking me to marry you?"

Gabby laughed. "Yeah, I guess it is. Not fair?"

Micky nodded "Darn right it's not fair. We had a deal. So we stick to the plan. So how do we decide without you asking me?"

"Well, I think I just gave you a pretty big hint, Mickster. Do you want to have a peace summit to discuss terms of engagement before we decide?"

Micky eased Gabby up and said more seriously "Well, maybe I do. Just so we don't end up like I think Wendy and Mike are going to. You just gave a centimeter on having kids, Gabby. That's not giving me false hope, is it?"

"I don't know, Micky. Maybe it is. If I were you, I'd assume the answer is the same as it was before I gave the centimeter, but be thrilled that you got the centimeter. I'm obviously not immovable and I've got room to grow. You've shown me an incredible amount of growth on your side. But like I said, the way you live your life has a lot to do with it. So if you think you want to spend four months at a time on the road for the rest of your life and that's a deal breaker for me on kids and no kids is a deal breaker for you, then let's not get married. If you think that this crazy schedule you're keeping right now is just for while you're young and ambitious and crazy, then everything else is subject to change, keeping in mind that I also have career ambitions that I haven't even gotten started on. But given how stinkin' rich you are, I assume you can afford a nanny, right?"

Micky laughed and said "Yeah, that's doable."

Gabby gave him a stern look. "But it's not just about looking after them, Micky. It's being there for them. You saw how Schmooshy acted when you came home. He didn't know who you were. You were crushed. Think how that would go with human kids. That's how it was for me and my dad. Still is."

Micky hung his head and sighed. "Yeah, that cut me to the bone. Thanks for reminding me and keeping me grounded. How about we get married and get a second dog and worry about kids later?"

Gabby grinned. "I like the sound of that very much."

Micky was adamant: "But this next dog is gonna be a rescue dog that's full grown. No more puppies!"

Gabby rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah, and what about human kids? Are you going to want to adopt a fifteen-year-old so you can avoid late night feedings and potty training?"

Micky shamefacedly replied "Oh. Yeah, I see what you mean."

Gabby said, "Repeat after me: Keep it in the day, do what's in front of you. We can get married, get a second dog who's full-grown and needs a good home and we'll worry about kids later when we both have our careers pinned down. Sound okay?"

Micky traced Gabby's hair from her bangs down her jawline to her lips, then kissed them. "Sounds perfect."

"So are you going to do the surprise proposal?"

Micky harrumphed. "If I tell you, it won't be a surprise."

"Well at least tell me if I'm engaged so I know whether I can start telling people."

"You are not engaged. You are engaged to be engaged. So don't say anything to anyone, girl code be damned. This is between you and me." Micky sternly gestured with his pointer finger drawing a line from his heart to hers.

"Okay. Mum's the word. Just remember. No ring. I get to pick my own out."

"Okay. I'll just buy a cigar and peel the wrapper off and put that around your finger."

Gabby giggled. "That's a great idea for a ring, actually. You have so many career options if music doesn't work out for you, Micky. Now let's go check on our child and then get ready for round two, yes?"

"Mmmmm, sounds good."

After they had made love again, they took a shower so Micky could get rid of his road grunge and he took a third helping of pleasure with Gabby in the shower. They were both strung out and blissed out, and she suggested glasses of wine and a soak in the giant bathtub. Micky requested they call for takeout and wait for it to arrive while they took their bath. They ordered a Chinese feast and climbed into the hot water.

Gabby leaned her head back on a folded towel and sighed "Micky, you have totally spoiled me. Even when I was a Palos Verdes rich bitch I never had it this good."

He tickled her belly with his toes and said "I love spoiling you. It's easy to do. You don't ask for much. Did you see that car Mike and Wendy bought? I don't think Mike can barely fit his long legs behind the steering wheel. Wendy got one look at it and said 'Ooooh, that cute little car is soooooo meeeeee!' And that was it, out comes the checkbook and the next thing you know, he's buying a car and paying a fortune to have it shipped back to the States."

"Hmph. Wendy sure is living the good life. She seems to have forgotten all her old friends. None of us have seen much of her lately. But Micky, that reminds me! Listen, I have news for you, but you need to keep it to yourself. I mean, you can talk to Peter about it, but other than that..."

Micky began to grin. "What? Has Dawn got a bun in the oven finally?"

Gabby nodded. "Yep! Isn't that fabulous? And she's asked me to host a party for them with just the Monkees family. She said their house is too much of a hippie commune these days and she wants to have it be just us. She was lamenting the fact that the group seems to be drifting apart, though frankly we all agreed that the main culprit for that seems to be Wendy and maybe to a certain extent Mike. So I'd appreciate it if we could have this party, and hopefully Wendy and Mike will be decent human beings and come to the party and help us celebrate. Is that okay with you?"

"Sure, of course! Let me know if I can do anything to help."

Gabby thought about it. "Well, how about if we make it a barbecue and we can do the cookout thing like we used to do at the Pad, but you can tell Mike that we just can't do it without him manning the grill like he always did. That will stoke his ego sufficiently probably, right?"

Micky was impressed at Gabby's mastery of the psychology of his friends. "You seem to have really pinned down everyone's personality pressure points."

"That's what empaths are good at. We read people well and try to cater to their needs. That's probably how Nick managed to keep me under his thumb for so long." She paused and shivered and shook the bad memory out of her head. "Mike's really not a bad guy. I think he's deeply insecure and needy and it comes out as aggression and anger. Wendy's the same way. I've been dealing with her misplaced hostility our whole friendship. Those two are so similar. They're looking to conquer the world to prove to themselves that they're not inadequate, not that they're geniuses that are going uncredited."

"Hmmmm, well, maybe some of that's true, but I think Mike would love it if we all genuflected whenever we greeted him and said 'All hail the musical genius.' He has gotten pretty insufferable about letting us all know how superior his knowledge and talent are."

"Maybe that's a guy thing, then. Or maybe it's the money. Or the fame and the fans. I doubt it has anything to do with you guys, though, so I wouldn't take it personally if I were you. I think Mike in his own way adores you, more than the other guys, and he'd be lost without you. If a fall is going to come, he's going to need you. I'm pretty pissed off at Wendy, but I'm still going to be there to scrape her up off the ground when she falls."

Micky looked surprised and cocked his head. "You said _when_ she falls, not _if_ she falls. Why are you sure she's going to fall?"

"Because I've known her for too long to be fooled by this act. This hubris is just a cover for her letting her values rot. She's gotten selfish and careless and maybe even greedy. I think the one who's going to get hurt is Mike. And one day he's going to wake up and realize that she doesn't look after his heart as much as he looks after hers and he'll get fed up with it and dump her ass. I just hope she doesn't cause irreparable damage in the process."

They both looked at each other and sighed, then tickled each other with their toes. Micky observed "Thank you for being straight with me about where you stand on the big issues, Gabby, even when your answer isn't what you think I want to hear. It makes me love you all the more, makes me more willing to compromise and consider things from your point of view. So far, everything we've done has been at the right pace, and we've both had a hand at setting that course, but you more than I have always been the level head, slowing things down and being realistic about us and where we're at and where we're going. I really trust your judgment."

Leaning forward and taking both his hands in hers, Gabby smiled and clasped them to her heart. "Oh, Micky, I can't tell you what it means to me to hear you say that. Sometimes I feel like such a hard ass, such a downer, like I'm always dowsing the flame or defying the supposed law of nature about what a woman ought to do because every other generation did it that way. But it's like you guys sing about — we're a different, new, young generation. We've got new ideas, new things to say. We're going to lead the way for others and make it better for those who come after us. I feel that especially as a woman. I feel like I'm being given a chance that other women never had. I want my chance, just like you wanted your recording contract. And I can't really blame Wendy either. She has ambitions, too. But she's just being selfish for not telling Mike what they are and not warning him about how they might not fit into his plans. Then again, like I said, if he's fool enough to take for granted that he can tame that maverick, he probably deserves what he gets. But I do feel some sympathy for him."

Micky took the last sip of wine in his glass and reached for the bottle to pour some more. "Okay, so a party! Let's have it right away, before we get too far into this next album. What about this coming weekend?"

"Okay, let me check with Dawn and the other girls. I assume they have their men under sufficient control to get them to show up whenever, except for Wendy and Mike. And if they don't show up, then fuck 'em. Right?"

"Right. Now which do you want? More wine, or a quickie before the food gets here?"

Gabby giggled and pondered the possibilities. "Both?" she requested mischievously.

Just as Micky began to reach for the bottle, Schmooshy presented himself with a whine, requesting his hourly visit to the great outdoors to empty his bladder.

Micky groaned "Ugh! Parenthood!"


	18. Chapter 18

Everyone was milling around Micky and Gabby's backyard. That was an accomplishment in and of itself. Gabby smiled with satisfaction as she saw all her closest friends lounging around and chatting, drinking and eating, relaxing and experiencing a rare moment of repose. Schmooshy was in seventh heaven, receiving so much love and attention from so many new smelly people. (To him, everyone was just a series of smells.) Davy was a particularly keen animal lover and he immediately started teaching the dog tricks and rough housing with him on the lawn. Jan was leaping and capering around with the dog and her man, tackling and tickling both of them, and the three of them rolled around on the ground.

Gabby took particular pleasure in seeing Davy enjoying himself. He had been through so much in the last year and a half, and had at last seemed to have found some harmony for himself. He and Jan still weren't living together, but Jan didn't seem fazed by it. She seemed to be built along the same pragmatic lines as Gabby, and was in no rush to commit to anything the relationship couldn't support. When Micky moved out of the Pad, Davy had been understanding and had gotten himself a bachelor pad near Jan's apartment with basically no fuss or discussion amongst any of them. It just was the natural course of things and he accepted it with good grace, at least on the surface.

Gabby strolled over to the grill, where Mike was standing wearing an apron, flipping burgers, hot dogs and sausages. She gave his arm a squeeze and said "Jeez it's good to see you in your regular spot, Mike, cooking up a storm. Thanks for being a good sport and making this a down home party. I thought folks might enjoy that after all the strange restaurant and room-service food you guys have had to eat on the road, plus this reminds me of our best days at the Pad."

Mike smiled and lifted his wineglass to her "Amen to that, Gabby! This was a great idea. I'm real glad to be here. Thanks for havin' us."

Just at this moment, Wendy, or Lady Nesmith as Gabby and the other girls had begun calling her behind her back, came gliding over to them and put her arm around Mike proprietorially. "Gabby, what's with the kid's party setup? I know Micky's not as ambitious as Mike and doesn't make as much from the records, but jeez, I would think you guys could afford a caterer!"

Gabby stiffened and took a step back as if Wendy had physically slapped her in the face. She took a deep breath and then calmly responded "I'm sorry the food doesn't meet up to your standards and expectations, Wendy. I was going for a certain feel, bringing back memories of when we were all still humble and partying at the Pad. I think in a certain way those were our best days, and I don't ever want us to move away from the values and bonds we shared back then. That's what all the other girls wanted, too. I'll look forward to when you finally invite us all over to your place."

Micky had been standing within earshot, listening to Gabby handle the sticky situation with grace and no hostility. Now he walked up to the group and asked "Can I get either one of you anything? A drink, something to eat, a diamond tiara?"

Wendy's face went red with embarrassment and she flounced away with no response. Mike was blushing and felt the need to apologize on her behalf. "I'm sorry about that, you two. I think this is a great party. Wendy's just not been herself lately. You know how she gets when she's out of sorts. She kind of bites the hand that feeds her and lashes out. I hope y'all won't take it personally. It's more like maybe she thinks I'm not doin' enough to show how much dough we're makin'. But that's between me and her. Sorry you got caught in the crossfire."

Gabby shook her head and said "I don't buy it, Mike. Don't take all that on yourself. Wendy's got a bug up her ass and always has had one when it comes to how Micky and I live our lives. Nothing we do has ever set right with her and it never will. I'm resigned to it. But I was really sincere when I said we'd like you to have us all over. I feel like you guys have drifted away from the group, and I'm sad about that. Please don't do that. We all need you guys. We're still a family. That's what this party is about."

"Yeah, you're right. I've been feelin' kind of bad about the way me and the fellas have been havin' a go at each other about the work, and it's sometimes just a relief to take a break from them. And to be honest, I've been feelin' kind of unwelcome lately, like the skunk at the garden party."

Micky interjected into the conversation "I'm sorry you feel that way, Mike, but it's not how I feel about you. I won't speak for the other guys. I know the work is the work, but we'll always be brothers and that won't change. And in terms of the work, you know you could always make the decision to get human and talk things out with us. We're just waiting for that day to come, so the door is still open."

Mike laid his glass and barbecue tongs down and gave Micky a hug. "Thanks, Mick. That means a lot to me." They slapped each other in a hearty man hug and then turned their attention to the grilling meat. Gabby felt a shiver of satisfaction tickle her spine and drifted away to chat with her other guests.

As the sun had set, Micky started a fire in the fire pit. Like Pavlov's dogs, out came the instruments and the weed. Before everyone got too wasted, Gabby asked to make a toast to Dawn and Peter. The other guys didn't yet know about the baby, so their faces looked bewildered. Gabby said, "But before we toast, I think Dawn has something to say."

Dawn stood up and cleared her throat. Being a woman of direct nature, she just blurted out "Hey, you guys are going to be aunts and uncles!" Pete stood up and wrapped his arm around her, bending down to kiss her tummy and then rising to kiss her forehead. The guys lined up to give them hugs and high fives. Davy asked "Which of us are you going to name it after if it's a boy, Pete?" Pete just rolled his eyes and said "Maybe we'll name it Randy Scouse Git! That chick Valerie I dated told me three-part names were really classy and if I only had a third name it would really improve my image." The group roared with laughter, since Micky's popular tune name was based on a British slang phrase that he claimed meant "horny Liverpudlian putz." In Britain the title was seen as so scandalous and offensive that it had had to be changed to an alternative title, so Micky puckishly changed the title to _Alternative Title_. He suggested "How about if you just call your kid Alternative Title?" More laughs followed.

Gabby resumed her toast, asking everyone to drink to Peter and Dawn's good fortune. Dawn added "And the sproutling! That's what we're calling it for now." Another toast was made "To the sproutling!"

Micky now cleared his throat and commanded the floor. "As long as I've got everyone's attention, I've got something I'd like to say." He walked over to Gabby and put his arm around her, looked deep into her eyes and spoke succinctly. Pulling something out of his pocket, he took her hand and said "Gabby Levitt, you're my best friend and the love of my life. Will you marry me?"

Gabby blinked uncomprehendingly and let her jaw drop open. Micky reached for her chin, closed her mouth for her and waited with a smile for her to speak. She sputtered and stammered "Y-y-yes, Micky, yes! Boy, when you say you're going to surprise me, you mean business!"

He reached for her left hand and put a ring on it. She got an annoyed look on her face until she saw what was on it. It was a gold and red band in the shape of a cigar wrapper with carvings to make it look like a facsimile. He must have had it made custom for her so that he'd have something to give her, a private joke between them that she could look at and be amused by while she took her time selecting a real engagement ring, and something she could keep as a lovely symbol of Micky's finest qualities — his humor, thoughtfulness and generosity.

Micky shook his head vigorously and whispered to her "Oh, no, I don't want certain somebodies accusing me of not being ambitious enough to be able to afford to get you a real ring. Even though it _is_ from Cartier." He winked at her and they laughed.

The hugged and kissed and then were surrounded by the family offering their well wishes and congratulations. Everyone wanted to see the odd ring he had given her and to understand the joke behind it. Wendy couldn't resist taking a shot and commenting "I hope he's going to get you a better ring than that!" Gabby declined to reply.

The rest of the night was full of primarily good vibes, except from one petite bitch on wheels, and there seemed to be some healing happening with the guys. They talked about finishing up the next album and planning a family vacation before their next tour, maybe to someplace tropical where none of them had been or could ever have afforded to go before. Peter said "better make it before junior shows up. After that, all bets are off."

As people began to say their goodnights, goodbyes and thanks for the lovely party farewells, Wendy approached Gabby. She hugged Gabby and said "Wow, Gabbileh, whod'a thunk that you and Micky would beat Mikey and me to the altar? Well, maybe you won't after all, who knows." She shrugged her shoulders and looked with meaning at Mike, who looked mortified.

Gabby sighed and said "I didn't realize it was a race, Wendy. And thanks for the vote of confidence, as always." She looked past Wendy and gave Mike a sincere hug goodbye. As he had done too many times in the past, he found himself making a quiet apology to Gabby, this time on Wendy's behalf instead of his own. Gabby shook it off and said not to worry about it. "Just remember what we talked about, Mike. The family is all, even our more unruly relatives," she joked.

As they drove home to their palatial mansion in their tiny mini-Cooper, Wendy started ranting and raving about all the shortcomings of the party, ranging from her picayune complaints about the quality (or lack thereof) of the food to the fact that Gabby had stolen a march on her and gotten herself engaged to Micky after playing possum for so long and pretending she wasn't interested in marrying Micky or even moving in with him. Michael had finally had an earful but waited until they got home to challenge Wendy about her shitty attitude.

"Wendy, what has gotten into you? Did one of them weird hats fall on your head like in the Bugs Bunny cartoon and turn you into a witch or the Red Queen in Alice in Wonderland? Cuz nothin' you're sayin' makes any sense nor tracks with the lovin' girl I know. For God's sake, Gabby's your best friend and all you've got to say about her are awful, jealous, mean things. What is _up_ with you? Why can't you find it in you to be happy for her? Why do you think she and Micky have to do things a certain way?"

Wendy was doing a slow burn as she listened to what she interpreted was Mike questioning her ability to read her life-long friend like a book, whereas he'd only known her for a little more than a year. "Why? I'll tell you why! Because all our lives, she's always been telling me that my way was the wrong way, that I ought to stop being the maverick, that my stubbornness was gonna get me in trouble and I'd end up on the outs. Well she's not as smart as she thinks she is! Who's the one who had this stupid childlike courtship, this one step forward and two steps back? She's done nothing but jerk Micky around all this time and now she's all miss high and mighty, flashing her stupid fake engagement ring around, holding her tacky teenage party. _I'm_ the big success between the two of us. I got my man, I got the big house, I got the car and the money and the career and the salary and the power and the travel and the famous friends. What does she have?"

Mike, who had been listened to this diatribe with a mixture of disgust and pity, answered her question quietly and calmly. "She has her heart's content and her feet planted in the direction she wants to be walkin'. If she's in no hurry to get where she's goin', if she takes her time to get there and thinks it through, there's nothin' wrong that. And since when did money and power get so important to you, girl? So important that you don't mind insultin' your best friend as a guest in her home? You made an ass of yourself, Sweet Petite, and you shamed me too."

Wendy rounded on him in a fury. "Oh, and you're not about getting exactly what you want no matter what it does to _your_ friends? You run roughshod over those guys all the time!"

Mike bowed his head and said "You're right, and I spoke to Micky about it tonight. He extended his hand to me and I'm gonna try to make amends for that. But that's at work. That's not our friendships. We didn't start driftin' apart from them until you started feedin' me that crap that we should be spendin' time with more important people than them. The way you froze Micky out in London on that first publicity trip wasn't right, and he knew the only reason we hung out with him was to meet Paul McCartney. Micky's sensitive and his bullshit meter is pretty finely tuned. That's why I insisted we hang out with him on the next trip and why I insisted we go to this party. Wendy, sweetie, you can't step on people on the way up. You might need them on the way back down."

Wendy was fuming. "Are you implying that I'm going to be a failure?"

Mike sighed and tried again. "No, sweetie, I'm not sayin' that. I'm just sayin' that even if us guys end up doing different things down the road, we're still gonna be the Monkees in our fans' minds forever. We're linked for life. So make it your reality that gettin' to the top shouldn't include dumpin' on your best friend."

Wendy decided to switch tactics. She put her kitten in a rainstorm expression on her face. "And what about you and me, Mikey? How is it that Gabby is gonna be walking down the aisle before me?"

Mike put his arms around Wendy and said "We've got things to do right now, mah sweet, and like you said, Gabby doesn't. She's just got a regular job and a dog. When we get hitched, it will be when we have the time and ability to devote to each other and our own sproutlings. See?" He enfolded her in his arms. She received his embrace with some uneasiness but said nothing to contradict him.

"Right, Mikey. I understand. We've got bigger dreams and I appreciate your respecting mine. You're a real feminist. Thanks for your support."

After everyone had left the party and they were cleaning up the house, Micky said he wanted to take Gabby ring shopping right away, but Gabby was growing attached to her joke engagement ring. Every time she looked at it, it made her smile and her heart swelled with affection and amusement. Finally, she broke the news to Micky.

"Micky, I need to tell you something that's probably going to upset you, but I think I don't want a different engagement ring."

Micky was on the edge of having a tantrum. "What? Oh, come on, Gabby, that's crazy, I can't be having you walk around with a..."

Gabby interrupted him "A what? A ring that you thoughtfully designed and had made for me at very short notice? A ring that is entirely unique and one-of-a-kind? A ring that makes me think of all your best qualities every time I look at it, like how funny and thoughtful and offbeat you are? How generous you were to pay someone to make me a custom ring when you could have just explained to everyone how difficult I was being about the ring issue, but you wanted me to have something so you bought me that ring? I kind of can't think of anything else that will suit me better. I'll tell you what. Let me get married in this ring. If I change my mind, I'll promise to ask you for another ring. Okay?"

Micky shrugged his shoulders and enfolded her in a hug. "Well, I don't know about it being unique. The guy at Cartier loved the design so much he made me promise he could mass produce it in exchange for making it for me in a hurry. But how can I refuse your request, when it's conveyed with such sincerity, weird logic and plain bloody mindedness? Okay, but you have to tell my mom face to face why you're wearing that thing and not something fancy and expensive or traditional, or she'll have my hide!"

"Sure, it's a deal." She extended her hand and waited for him to take it and follow his custom to kiss his way all the way up her arm. He got as far as her ring and stopped cold, his eyes flying up to her eyes. "We're getting married!" He sounded stunned, as if it had just occurred to him. She smiled and nodded. "It's true. I'm stunned, too. Let's go have a bath and talk about it from A to Z so it will feel more real." They took Schmooshy out for an evening constitutional so he wouldn't interrupt them, then headed to the bathroom.

As they soaked in the tub, they went through the mundane questions. Long or short engagement? Gabby wanted a short one, but being possessed of a Jewish mother, she feared her mom would want an elaborate wedding and those took a long time to plan.

Micky offered "How about you tell her that we either have a short engagement or we're going to elope?"

Gabby sniggered. "You have a lot to learn, Dolenz, now that you're joining a Jewish _mishpucha_. That means family in Yiddish or Hebrew. I think we ought to tell my mom she has three months to plan the wedding and you'll spring for a wedding planner to help her. Then we'll honeymoon with the Monkees family down in the Caribbean or maybe Paris or somewhere for part of it and then we can go somewhere else after that on our own."

He nodded. "I like it. I also like the idea of including the friends family on the first part of the honeymoon. God knows how we'll bribe Robert, Jan and Lynda's employers again to let them go. Maybe we should tell them they'll get an album credit in the liner notes. You'd be surprised what a sincere thank you can do, not to mention a little publicity."

"Okay, next question," continued Gabby. "Nondenominational, non-religious wedding would be my preference, but my mom would have a heart attack if it wasn't at least a little Jewish. I can't get married in a church and no rabbi will marry us, but can you handle getting married under the chuppah, which is the traditional Jewish canopy, and stomping on the glass at the end of the ceremony?"

"Yeah, as long as you explain why the glass. That sounds like a violent way to seal the deal."

"It's part of the Jewish wedding ceremony. The shards of glass can never be separated or put back together into their original form once you stomp on them, and they symbolize the irrevocable mingling of our souls."

Micky smiled. "Groovy. I like it."

"And we'll write our own vows, like Peter and Dawn, right?"

"Of course, I'm a song writer. That's gonna be my favorite part. Can I write the ceremony?"

Gabby's eyes lit up. "Oh, I'd absolutely love that! See, that's what makes you so special. I've never heard of a groom who wanted to write his own wedding ceremony. Okay, anything we haven't discussed that you want to add?"

Micky gave it some thought and said "Where should we get married?"

Gabby groaned "Oy, my mom will probably want some fancy place like a hotel. Can we just let her have her way on the venue? I think that will get her off our backs. If you want, we can do another private ceremony, just you and me, in some place of significance to the two of us. Maybe either Peter and Dawn's meadow, or that little place on the beach in Monterey?"

"That sounds good. Last thing. Can we have Schmooshy be part of the wedding?"

"Definitely, though my relatives will be scandalized that we had a child out of wedlock." They both busted up laughing.

Micky reached for her and embraced her, then began to kiss her in a very loving way. Suddenly, they pulled back to look at each other and the mood changed. They clutched at each other and a whirlwind of kisses were flying between them. He pulled her onto his lap and she slid right down on his erection. She was in full cheerleader mode right now.

"Give it to me, Micky. Make some waves in this tub. I want to hear that beautiful voice of yours."

Micky began to thrust his hips under her and straight up, pile driving her as she bounced up and down. His eyes were riveted to her boobs as they bounced with the rest of their bodies and his eyes fired up his nether regions even more. He got a big grin on his face and she knew what was causing it.

"You dirty boy, Micky. I know what you're thinking and I know what's got you all hot and bothered. Are you gonna stare at 'em or are you gonna do something with 'em?"

Micky licked his lips and lunged forward for her breasts, in the process driving himself even deeper into her, making her moan and shudder with pleasure.

"That's it, Micky, come get me. I'm here for you. Go to town."

Micky broke into a frenzy and let loose with a shout of pleasure. A spate of barks returned Micky's noise, being interpreted by the dog as some sort of howling alert. Gabby giggled and continued to urge Micky on. "That's my wolf boy, Micky. Howl at the moon!" As he ceased to move and the waves in the water subsided, he growled at her and said "I'm not satisfied. I still have an appetite that needs feeding. Come with me, my pretty little Red Riding Hood."

He pulled her out of the tub and quickly toweled her down. He laid her down on the bed and dove between her legs. He went down on her like a starving man, giving no quarter as she squirmed and moaned. He was a man on a mission and was not going to be satisfied until he had Gabby shouting as loudly as he usually did. He didn't have to work hard or wait long. She had that feeling of sliding down a snow-covered mountain towards a giant orgasm waiting for her at the bottom, and she slammed right into it. Now it was Micky's turn to cheer her on. "Yes, my Gabby, that's it. Give yourself over to all that pleasure. I love to see you like this." She was only able to say one word — Oh! — and she said it in many ways and various decibels. She ran her hands through his head guiding him to pull away when she got too sensitive, and he helped her regain her breath by brushing her belly with his hand.

She reached for him and he scooted up to level his face with her. He kissed her tenderly and marveled "Wow, that's our first time making love as an engaged couple. And tonight, we'll sleep in our bed for the first time as an engaged couple." Schmooshy trundled into the room dragging his leash behind him.

Gabby groaned "And now we'll go walk our son for the first time as an engaged couple." Micky laughed until he was hoarse. "So many firsts!" he observed.

Over the next few days, every time Micky or Gabby did anything, be it separately or together, Micky marked the occasion as "The first time you/I/we did X as an engaged couple," until Gabby threatened to get un-engaged if he didn't knock it off. He sighed and began to confide in the dog instead for every new milestone. Gabby heard him murmuring to the dog and caught on to what he was doing. This struck her as hilarious and charming and she just hugged herself that she was marrying such a dear, sweet, sentimental man.

With the help of the wedding planner, Gabby's mom surprisingly rose to the occasion and managed to pull the wedding together very quickly and the date was set for Saturday, November 11. That would be right after the guys' next album was released and they wouldn't have to go out on the road for a while to promote it until it had time to percolate through the charts. The wedding was a typical affluent Jewish affair, held at the Beverly Hills Hotel. It was a win-win, since Micky's Mom also had familiarity with it dating back to the Hollywood heyday when Micky's dad had been a popular television actor. This gelled well also with Micky's crowd, since it was a hangout for celebrities and rock stars, so Micky's more successful friends weren't strangers to the joint either.

The Monkees family acted as bridesmaids and groomsmen, with Wendy unashamedly claiming her place as maid of honor. Gabby felt depressed and disappointed that the scenario didn't feel like the two girls had planned since girlhood, with the uncomfortable estrangement that had arisen between them gradually as the Monkees' and Wendy's fortunes had risen. Still, a delightful newcomer compensated for this sorrow, with Schmooshy making an adorable and surprisingly cooperative ring bearer, allowing "Uncle Davy" to lead him down the aisle with a ribbon tied to his collar with the two plain wedding bands tied to it. Davy then took up his place as Micky's best man.

They hired a DJ, but they had a mélange of instruments present and prevailed upon their musician friends to feel free to play and jam whatever songs they wanted to in lieu of buying wedding gifts. Thus, the entertainment at the wedding reception was absolutely epic and would have been a bootleg taper's dream come true. The dancing went on until nearly dawn, with the oldsters returning to their bungalows and hotel rooms or hitting the road back to their homes at a fairly early hour and the younger generation rocking until the sun began to peek below the horizon. Everyone, including Lady Nesmith, agreed that it was the best wedding they had ever attended.

The day after the wedding was allotted to lounging around the pool, and then Monday the Monkees family was departing for the Bahamas. Davy had been there once on a junket financed by a fan magazine and he volunteered to be the tour guide. Micky and Gabby were relieved not to have to worry about any of the logistics and appreciated Davy's gift of leadership. Micky insisted on paying for Robert and Lynda's trip, which they gratefully accepted. As Micky's brainstorming session had suggested, the bribery of a mention of thanks in the liner notes of their next album to Jan, Robert and Lynda's employers freed them up for a four-day jaunt.

Everyone stuck together and did group activities, which involved snorkeling, swimming, sunbathing, sightseeing, group meals, and getting shnockered on island drinks with fruit and umbrellas in huge glasses (except Dawn). Davy managed to cultivate a local connection for the requisite extracurricular substances they liked to indulge in. They even brought their instruments with them and jammed and noodled around on some new songs. Even Mike was very easy going. It seemed like the chat he and Micky had during the party at his house made an impression on him. Either that, or the local ganja was doing him some good. Wendy still seemed edgy and discombobulated and often fractious. At one point, Gabby was tempted to ask her whether she was using hard drugs like cocaine. But this was her honeymoon and it was not the time for an intervention. She decided to let the matter lie and wait for a more opportune moment to present itself, if ever.

Micky and Gabby spent as much time as possible with Peter and Dawn, knowing that their lives were going to change drastically and that they needed to be given support and have as much fun as possible. Of all the guys, Gabby felt she knew Peter the least. She told Dawn she wanted to know him better and asked her to get Pete to open up more to her. She got Dawn's permission to go for a walk down the beach with Pete and get his thoughts on all manner of topics, including music, politics, the band's dynamics, impending fatherhood, what it's like to be married, and what if any advice he had for her. When they returned to the group, he stopped and said "Thanks for wanting to know who I am, Gabby. I tend to turtle when the world gets too overwhelming, and I often hide out in my pharmaceutical cocoon. Well, that and Dawn's unconditional love and acceptance. I'm really glad you and Micky found each other and made it through the bumps in the road. You two are made for each other. And you really are a big part of why this group is so cohesive as a band still. I think without you, we might have already broken up."

"Pete, if you ever feel like it's getting that bad, I hope you'll speak up for yourself. But if you can't or won't, you have an ally in Micky. He's got Mike's number. And I've got Wendy's." She hugged him and gave him a push in the direction of his beloved wife. "Go get your girl." He smiled and walked away towards Dawn.

Wendy came sauntering over to Gabby and nodded in Pete's direction. "Fomenting a coup, or trying to avert one, Gabby?"

Gabby turned a flabbergasted and disgusted look at Wendy and shook her head in disbelief. "Neither, Wendy. Trying to knit up the soul of a friend who's in pain and needs support. I remember when that was something you used to do, too. Now you're the one inflicting the pain. Doesn't that bother you?"

"Who says I'm inflicting pain?"

"I'm saying it. You just heard me say it. You've been rude and mean and high-handed and acting like Lady Macbeth. Seems like your overweening ambition is obliterating your humanity. What are you getting out of that that makes it worthwhile? Or do you just not realize you're doing it?"

Wendy folded her arms and assumed her maverick stance. "Let's look at what you've got and what I've got and you tell me who's better off, who's got the winning strategy."

Gabby held out her hand to forestall her and said "No, let's not, Wendy. This isn't a pissing contest. I don't want the same things you want, and the things that you're willing to sacrifice on your way to getting the things you want aren't worth the tradeoff in my opinion. What matters to me is friendship, family and love. I care about the causes that matter to me, and I care about being able to support myself."

Wendy scoffed. "Hmph! Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore, now that you snagged a rich rocker!"

Gabby gave Wendy a pitying look. "See, Wendy, you don't know me at all anymore. Or maybe you never did. I'm not living off of Micky's money. I paid him rent to live in that house before we got married, and I intend to turn over the same amount of money to him every month now that we are married. My budget is still the same. We don't even have a joint bank account."

Wendy's jaw dropped open. "You gave GOT to be shittin' me! Girl, you are a plain old fool!"

Gabby shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, maybe. But I'm happy, and I'm living with integrity. And I still have the esteem of all my friends. Nobody is wondering whether I've been kidnapped by aliens and had a personality transplant. Nobody is wondering whether I'm on hard drugs. Nobody is worried about the state of my soul. Nobody is mourning the loss of my friendship. I miss my old friend, Wendy. I hope someday she'll come back to me. If you ever decide to come back, I'm here, but you're going to have to make amends and I'm willing to help you figure out how to do that. Mike's already trying to make his and Micky's helping him." With that, she turned and walked away. She knew an explosion was impending and didn't want to be in the line of fire. She also knew she had probably dropped Mike in the trenches, but that was his problem. Maybe he'd man up and tell Wendy where to get off. Wendy didn't speak to Gabby for the rest of the trip, but it came as a relief to Gabby, and she noticed no coolness emanating from Mike, so that was some comfort.

The plan was for Micky and Gabby to go on to Paris for the next part of their honeymoon, but the day before the family was about to depart from the Bahamas, the TPTB at the label sent Rafelson down to their hotel to ambush them and make them an offer they couldn't or shouldn't refuse. He wanted the guys to go on to Paris with Micky and Gabby to shoot another short film. The videos the guys had shot in the Rainbow Room of their _Headquarters_ songs had been a big hit as a half-hour special on TV, as had the documentary on their concert, and the label was anxious to feature the new songs for their next album _Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn & Jones Ltd. _They wanted to film the guys running around Paris doing various romps that would be set to their new songs. They had thought about doing it in the U.S. or U.K., but they were too well known there. Since they were relatively unknown still in Paris, and since the guys were all in one place, and since Micky was heading there anyway, etc., etc.

The guys were furious that the label was asking them to do another project for which they weren't being paid. It was essentially being seen as a promotional junket. Moreover, Mike and Peter were not interested in becoming actors. They wanted to be taken seriously as musicians. And the guys took collective umbrage on Micky's behalf that the label would even consider horning in on Micky's honeymoon, particularly when Rafelson disclosed that the romps would be scripted with French models chasing the guys all over the city. This seemed deeply disrespectful to Gabby.

Micky took Gabby for a walk down the beach and asked her to tell him what she thought. He wasn't keen on the idea, but he didn't really mind it, being an actor by training and nature. He also saw an opportunity to negotiate for himself a side deal that could set the stage for his post-Monkees career that he thought could help eventually set up a more stable home life for the two of them and he set forth his idea for Gabby. He was going to ask Rafelson that he be allowed to direct some of the scenes so that he could get some experience behind the camera, with an eye towards setting the groundwork for a future career as a director after his Monkees career if it should fizzle out. For Gabby, that was the hook that made all the difference. She encouraged Micky to go ahead with the project, as long as the label would build in time at the end of the project for the two of them to take their intended honeymoon. Davy was also on board since he had a background in acting and of course, he couldn't resist French models. Mike and Peter decided to take one for the team when Micky explained why this project appealed to him, that it might mean the difference between Gabby agreeing to have children with him or not.

So Pete and Davy bade adieu to their beloveds who flew home with Robert. Mike found himself wishing that Wendy would fly home as well. Not only was she furious with Gabby after the heart-to-heart confrontation they had, but she was used to being the only significant other on band business trips and it cramped her style to have another one along on the trip. She was used to taking advantage of and preying on the misery of the other guys to manipulate them and get her way and shift things in Mike's and her advantage. With Gabby present, she not only lifted Micky's spirits and made him more of a free agent, but the other guys were less pliable and less easily bullied and denigrated as well. It wasn't so much that Gabby even stood up for them, but she inspired them to stand up for themselves.

And boy, did some standing up for themselves have to be done! The storyline for this short film was that these models would chase the Monkees all through the city, past the various monuments and tourist sites, and eventually at the end of the film they catch up with the guys and they all end up putting their arms around the girls and smooching them. None of the guys was keen on this idea, other than Davy, though he knew it would probably earn him a ration of shit when Jan saw it, but she was pretty easy going and would most likely accept the idea that it was all make believe. But the rest of the guys were in serious, committed relationships. Oddly, Wendy was all in favor of Mike going for it with the model. She wanted to cultivate his sex symbol image, feeling that he had been given short shrift in that department for far too long. It was Mike himself who was deeply uncomfortable with the idea, and he was the one who quietly spoke with Gabby to plead with her to advocate on his behalf to not have to actually kiss the model. Micky and Peter were willing to kiss the models they were paired up with. Micky was a consummate actor, and Gabby had no hangups about it. Peter was an inherently friendly, sunny, affectionate person, so kisses were something he swapped with friends all the time. Dawn knew Peter was literally petrified of other women as sexual beings, however, and had no worries about Peter straying from the nest, particularly as his heart's desire was on its way in a few months, a baby Tork.

The shoot ended up being fairly miserable for Micky, who had a seriously upset stomach and a bad case of diarrhea, so the last thing on his mind was flirting with the models. Mike maintained his firm refusal to kiss the model he was paired up with, but agreed to put his arm around her, and he tried to just pretend he was Marlon Brando or some other cool actor and tune out his brain. In the end, it was no worse than being thrown into the groupie pit. In fact, it was better, in that these models were pros and had no more interest in being groped than the guys. They probably all had boyfriends themselves. Peter was his usually sunny, friendly, hippie self, and got so carried away with the hugging that he ended up throwing his arm around Micky as well, which made for a charming scene.

There was also an adorable romp with Peter and Davy larking about in old-fashioned bathing suits at a pool that Gabby said had gorgeous homoerotic undertones, which amused Peter and left Davy aghast.

The highlight of the shoot and the last shot coincided when the guys piled into a Jeep painted with psychedelic swirls and Mike drove them around the _Arc de Triomphe_ , managing to stall the vehicle and cause a massive traffic jam, much to the consternation of the _gendarmes_. If the vehicle hadn't literally fallen apart at the seams, Micky speculated that it would have made its way home to join Mike's growing collection of cars.

The shoot wrapped and the guys and crew flew home. Micky picked the most expensive hotel he could find, the George V Hotel, and ensconced himself and Gabby in the Presidential Suite there indefinitely. He had asked Gabby to take a leave of absence from her job and she had agreed, since she had barely taken any time off and she knew she'd only have one honeymoon. Her boss granted her leave providing she agreed to file at least one story about leftist Parisian politics and one story about the Parisian music scene.

They began their days at cafés with croissants and all different types of French coffee, when they weren't mowing through gigantic breakfasts at the hotel restaurant or room service. It was a delight for them to be able to eat out in public around the city, though, since the Monkees were virtually unknown in France and Micky was never recognized.

Their days were spent poking around bookstalls near the Seine and a visit to the hallowed original location of the famed Shakespeare and Company bookstore and then to the new location where it had been moved when the original owner, Sylvia Beach had died and it had been taken over by George Whitman. The store had been the stomping grounds of authors such as Hemingway, Joyce and many of the Lost Generation, and Micky and Gabby, both bibliophiles, considered it a trip to Mecca.

Another must-see recommendation from Jan was the Musée d'Orsay, a disused, converted, railway station which housed impressionist and post-impressionist paintings by such greats as Monet, Manet, Degas, Cézanne, Renoir and others. Since Micky had had to literally climb the Eiffel Tower as part of filming, they skipped that tourist sight.

Instead, they took one of the boats the guys had pretended to ride down the Seine and actually did ride it all the way down. One day they took the train from the Saint-Lazare Paris station to Giverny to visit Monet's house and Garden and wandered around his colorfully painted kitchen and dining room, admired his studio with giant windows ("the Pad had windows almost as good," Micky boasted), and ambled through his ethereal, lush garden, which had Gabby in a state of euphoria.

Micky wanted to visit the Palace of Versailles, and that presented Gabby with the beginnings of her first story to file with the paper. It was so ornate and decadent she felt like vomiting, thinking of the economic inequity and disparity reflected in it that led to the upheaval of the French Revolution. It also pissed her off that when she had to use the ladies room, she had to actually pay a male monitor who stopped her on the way in to charge her for a few measly squares of toilet paper. She spent the rest of their visit there ranting about how the right to pee was a human right and no one should have to pay to relieve their bladder. She wrote a screed about this for the newspaper and vowed if she were ever appointed ambassador to the United Nations, this would be one of her major policy priorities.

Micky scouted out some clubs where he wanted to hear live music, and that gave Gabby her other story. She was hoping they'd end up in a beatnik club like the one in the movie _Funny Face_ and stumble into Audrey Hepburn talking about empathicalism. Instead, Micky managed to find some really hard rock 'n roll that was very _avant garde_ , that years later would probably be classified as a precursor to punk rock. Gabby interviewed the band, which was thrilled to be receiving attention from an American journalist and an American rock 'n roll star, and that took care of Gabby's work obligations.

At a café the next morning, Gabby filled Micky in on her discussion with Wendy, about how judgmental Wendy was about the fact that Gabby wasn't soaking Micky for his money. Micky shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Gabby looked at him suspiciously and asked "What? Don't tell me you agree with her!"

Micky blushed and said "No, I don't agree exactly, but I wish you would let me buy you things I think you would like. Not like supporting you financially. I know that self-sufficiency is important to you. But I wish you'd let me express my affection with material things once in a while. I mean, this trip is a perfect example. If I can't buy you a thing, I could give you an experience. That's okay with you, isn't it?"

"Yeah, that's okay."

"Well, what's the difference between that and me getting you a book you can't afford or a new car, or a set of back issues of a magazine that you loved as a kid, like those ones you used to read with Wendy?"

Gabby's eyes widened with surprise. " _Seventeen_? You wanted to buy me that?"

Micky nodded. "Yeah, I was at an antiquarian bookstore, poking around for stuff for myself, and they had a whole box of those things. I thought it would be so cool to get those for you for the library, but I didn't because I didn't want to get you all up in arms about me buying you something luxurious and impractical and kind of expensive."

Gabby sobbed and hugged her elbows tight to her side. She mashed herself into Micky and wept into his chest. "Oh, Micky, that was so thoughtful of you."

He put his arms around her, confused about how to comfort her. "But hey, I didn't even buy them."

"No, but you thought about it. It was a wonderful thought. And I'd have loved to have had them." She looked up at him through her tears. "Do you think they're still there?"

Micky smiled and said "I'll call them as soon as we get back to the hotel and ask, and if they have them, I'll tell them to hold on to them for me. But how come you'll let me buy those for you?"

"That's not just a thing you're buying me, just a fancy thing. It's a piece of my childhood. It's a cherished memory. And right now, it's something I'm missing so very much. Oh, Micky, I miss my old friend. Where did she go?" She buried her head into his chest and wept copious, despairing tears.

He stroked her hair and let his hands run down her back. "I don't know, Gabby. It sounds like you did your best to extend your hand and build a bridge for her to come back to you. The rest is up to her."

Gabby shrugged her shoulders with a helpless resignation. Then she switched her mind to her solid yet still evolving relationship with Micky. "So a new agreement is in order, I guess. You can buy me things without asking me if you think they'd have a deep meaning for me. If it's just stuff, I'd appreciate it if you'd ask me first. I don't want to collect material possessions. I think that's what's rotting out Wendy's soul. Or at least that's part of it. But I mean, if there's some occasion we need to go to and you think I need to get dressed up, obviously buy me the right clothes. I don't want to embarrass you. And if there's something you want for the house, buy it, because it's your house. But if it's a gift for me, let's keep those things special still, okay? I don't want things just for the sake of accumulating them. I still want to be me. I want you to recognize who I am and respect me. Plus, if you really do want to have kids, you ought to be saving for college."

Micky's eyes lit up. "You did it again! You gave another centimeter, didn't you?"

Gabby grinned enigmatically. "Possibly, possibly."

"Well while I have you in a compromising mood, can you at least agree to let me put you on my bank account, or a household checking account? You have to be able to pay for things while I'm away. I don't want you trying to keep up with the house expenses on your newspaper salary."

Gabby sighed and conceded, "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. You should have heard how insulting Wendy was when I told her you and I didn't share finances and that I still pay rent."

Micky frowned but looked a bit uncomfortable again. "Well, I hate to say it, but I think most people would think you're taking this independence thing a little far. But still, that's horrible of her to give you a hard time about it. I mean, how come she's living on Mike's dime and has her name on his bank account? First of all, they're not married. And second of all, she makes plenty of dough working for the label. She's on salary and has an expense account."

Gabby whistled. "Whoa. That girl has _chutzpah_!"

Micky wrinkled his brow. "What's that mean?"

"That's Yiddish for 'She's got a hell of a nerve!' Man, I see calamity in her future. I can just feel it in my bones. I just hope she's not taking Mike for a ride. That couldn't be true, though. She must really love him. I mean, she _did_ love him when I thought I knew her, when they were first dating. But now, I don't feel like I know her at all. That's what money and success and fame and power and control can do to people. That's why I hated living in Palos Verdes. But I never thought Wendy was like that."

"Gabby, I wouldn't put all this on her. Mike's probably been a bad influence on her. I'm telling you, he's got an agenda and a plan that's solely for his own benefit. He's a great guy, but he's also convinced that he's a genius and we're all just living in his world as useful idiots. I know you really like Mike, but he's got a diabolical mind. I mean, you know how many Nesmith tunes are on this new album? Five! That's just unbelievable. I'll never give up on him and I'll always try to keep the channel open for him to reach out to me, but I stay detached and dispassionate. I know this hurts you more because Wendy's your lifelong friend."

Gabby shook her shoulders and her whole body, like Schmooshy did after a bath. "Let's not talk about this anymore. I want to enjoy the rest of our honeymoon. Hey, guess what, Micky!"

"What?"

"We got married! Isn't that neat? Isn't that amazing?"

Micky broke into a huge grin and said "Hey, yeah, you're right! Cool!"

Gabby continued to make this observation thought the rest of the honeymoon, on the plane ride home and for weeks after they got back. It was one of her favorite things to do, to sneak up on Micky, tap him on the shoulder, and whisper in his ear " _We got married!_ " The novelty of something she hadn't planned on doing for a really long time, or maybe ever, just tickled her and made her so giddy with pleasure and excitement. This in turn made Micky unreasonably happy. They were disgustingly happy newlyweds.


	19. Chapter 19

The Monkees' fourth album, _Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn, And Jones Ltd._ , hit Number 1 shortly after Micky and Gabby returned from their honeymoon. It vaulted over the Beatles' _Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band_ , as well as _Headquarters_ , which had slid down to the Number 18 slot. 

It only stayed at Number 1 for one week, though it stayed on the chart for 64 weeks. They also scored a Number 1 hit with a song Davy sang called _Daydream Believer_ , which had sort of been his theme song among the group and family for years, backed with an incredible song written by all four guys and sung by Micky called _Goin' Down_ which Gabby felt was the best thing Micky had ever sung, but the guys could feel that their music was on the downswing in general. They were on the hunt for a new venue to make their imprint and one conveniently landed in their laps.

Rafelson was looking to get into producing movies, having gotten a taste for it with his camera work with the Monkees. He was approached by a B actor named Jack Nicholson who was intrigued by the Monkees' music and aesthetic and had pitched the idea of doing a feature movie starring them. The guys decided to at least hear him out. They went to a resort in Ojai, California, and in a drug-fueled hazed (again, Micky cleared it with Gabby but she had misgivings) they roughed out some ideas of what the movie could be about.

Rafelson secured partial funding for the movie from Colgems by promising a killer soundtrack. Colgems was an imprint of Columbia Pictures, so the synergy was there. By now, the guys weren't exactly newcomers to acting, but they had the raw, fresh talent that Rafelson felt could make the movie exciting to a new generation of movie-goers. The Monkees signed on to the project primarily with the aim of widening the audience for their music, but also to elevate the appreciation of their work as art and not just pabulum for children.

Before shooting began, Davy and Peter took a quick promotional tour to the U.K. on behalf of the new album. Peter was finally introduced to the Beatles, and was pleased to be invited by George Harrison to contribute banjo music to his _Wonderwall_ film and soundtrack.

Even as work was being prepared for the untitled movie, the guys were continuing to record songs for their next studio album as well as the movie soundtrack. It was an exhausting schedule. Adding to the pressure was the fact that Peter and Dawn's baby was due in about a month, sometime in the latter part of March of 1969. The only upside to their packed schedule was that it would keep Pete close to home and he could sleep at home every night with Dawn and be there to take her to the hospital when the big day arrived. Fortunately, starting on March 26, they had a two-week hiatus from filming the movie while Davy was working on a dance number for the movie and the guys would focus on the soundtrack.

On March 27, 1969, Charlotte Lady Tork was born. Dawn opted for a home birth with a doula, giving birth in a pool of water strewn with orchid flowers similar to the ones in evidence at the Monterey Pop Festival, surrounded with candles and incense. She asked for Gabby to be present, and it was a relatively short labor, with the baby emerging with the sun shining at 2:39 p.m. She was 7.2 pounds and 21 inches long. As Peter had predicted on top of the mountain in Palm Springs when he proposed to Dawn, the baby had a thin layer of fluffy blonde hair. Her eyes were slate blueish grey, as all babies' eyes are, so they would have to wait to see whether they would be toffee brown like her father's or blue like her mother's. Once the baby had been delivered, the rest of the Monkees family was summoned.

Jan and Lynda showed up bearing food, which was a good thing since there was a crowd to feed. Jan made sure to bring lots of healthy, vegetarian food to store in their freezer for a few days. Davy showed up with copious amounts of booze and started to pull out smokeable fun packs, but Jan gave him the evil eye and made him put them away. Lynda sat down with the doula and asked her all about her work and tried to make her feel welcome to hang around and join the celebration, but she said she had another birth to attend to. Mike handed her an envelope with a gigantic tip, which made Wendy frown and pull him aside for a talking to. He shrugged and walked away from her while she was in mid-sentence.

Micky wrapped his arm around Gabby and asked her what it was like being there for the birth. "To be honest, it was fucking terrifying. But it was also incredibly moving and had a sacred feeling to it. I was honored to be there. Not that I did much, other than to hold Dawn's hand and cheer her on."

Micky smirked, "Well, if there's one thing you're aces at, it's cheering people on in delicate, crucial situations when they're naked." Gabby blushed and smacked his arm playfully.

Micky got a dreamy look in his eyes and quietly asked "Gabby, are you ready for another child?"

Gabby cut her eyes at Micky. "Don't fuck with me, Micky. I hope you mean a dog. Right?"

He gave his goofy laugh. "Yeah. Can we get my dog soon?"

Gabby gave him another playful smack. "Yes. We can. But not if you're going out on tour anytime soon. Any word about a tour?"

Micky sighed and his frustration and disappointment was palpable. "Not that I'm aware of. I think they're banking on this movie changing the dynamic for us, or we're probably toast."

Gabby was shocked. "But what about your contract for the other records?"

"Oh, they'll still hold us to it and make us make the records, but we'll be dead men walking. They'll cheap out on production and promotion, which is kind of what they've already done with the record we just put out. No tour to promote it. Though frankly, I think it would kill us to go back out on the road after having just done it for four months. So I'm not really unhappy about how things are shaking out."

Gabby tilted her head and gave Micky a look of deep scrutiny. "You seem a little nihilistic about all of this."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Nah, it's just that I've been in this business my whole life and saw my father go through it. He ended up running a restaurant that was very successful. He didn't rely solely on his showbiz career. These things all have a half-life that's usually shorter than you think it's going to be. I mean, unless you're the Beatles. And maybe not even them. But like you said, I've got other talents and interests. I'll be okay."

"So when do you want to go get our next child?"

"This week, while we're on hiatus, if you can get some time off from work."

"Yes, I can do that. Let's do it tomorrow and you can do the babysitting all week and I can be there on the weekend and I'll take time off if necessary."

Micky kissed Gabby's lips tenderly and remarked "That will be a hell of a lot easier delivery, won't it?"

"Mhmmmm. Put another hash mark in the column in favor of dog children over human babies."

Micky walked over to Peter and Pete asked if Micky wanted to hold the baby. Micky was surprised and delighted to be given such an honor and readily accepted the red, misshapen, lumpen bundle swaddled in its cocoon. Soon, he was singing a lullaby that nobody recognized. Micky explained that it was one that his mother had composed herself that she sang to Micky and his siblings as children, called _Pillow Time_.

Gabby stood back and watched this scene, imagining Micky with a child of his own, of their own. Maybe it was not just a question of not wanting to lose him that she'd give him a child. She thought back to how many times Micky had said to her that he'd do anything to make her happy, to make her life better. She hadn't given that statement much thought before. Had she ever asked him for anything? Any major sacrifice or extravagant gift? Gift, no. Sacrifice, yes. Every step of the way, she'd asked him for patience, perseverance, abstention from physical contact on two occasions (one lasting three days and one lasting two months), respect for her independence as a woman in charge of her own safety and self-determination, to allow her to live her life on her own terms even when it went against his own grain. She'd asked for and received a lot from him already. Hell, she hadn't even told him yet that she wasn't planning on taking his last name (she wasn't looking forward to that conversation). She wanted to revisit the question of having kids, but she didn't want to discuss it with Micky yet. And she wanted to follow up on a job she had heard about before she said anything to him about it. Still, this experience, this day, gave her more to think about.

They visited the dog pound the next day and left with a mutt with hairy, shaggy bangs not unlike Micky's, Gabby noticed with amusement. He was a dusty brownish red mix of supposedly sheepdog, poodle, Labrador and golden retriever. Micky decided to name him Oodles because he had oodles of different breeds, oodles of hair, and oodles of personality. The biggest concern with Oodles was that he thought Schmooshy was a friend and Schmooshy thought that Oodles was an easy mark to bully. At the end of the first day at his new home, Micky caught Schmooshy ensconced on Oodles's gigantic dog bed and Oodles trying to tuck himself into Schmooshy's tiny little pug bed. Oodles needed to learn how to assert himself but for now, the pug was the alpha dog and it was both hilarious and pathetic. Once again, Micky signed them up for training classes, only this time it was for all four of them.

The family gathered for the christening of Charlotte Tork and Gabby and Micky stood up as godparents. Wendy gave a harrumph, but she hadn't a leg to stand on and she knew it. She'd been of no support whatsoever to Dawn in her pregnancy, and she'd grown apart from all the girls, not to mention that she'd chosen a life of constant travel and would not be a stable force in the child's life should anything happen to Peter and Dawn. Still, she was fit to be tied and Mike had to work very hard to keep her from making a snide comment about Dawn's choice of guardians, considering Gabby's self-pronounced choice to remain barren, completely ignoring her own private decision to maintain a similar status. She took some satisfaction when the minister named the two godparents and it was discovered that Gabby's last name was still Levitt, apparently to Micky's shock. This led to a quiet discussion between them that got cut short and had to be put on hold until later that night.

When they got home, as soon as they were done greeting the dogs, Micky started right in on the issue at hand, wanting to know why Gabby hadn't changed her name and when she was planning to inform him.

"Well, Micky, as to the why, it's because I'm Gabby Levitt and I always will be, just as you'll always be Micky Dolenz. That's who you are, except for when it suited you to change your name to Braddock as a stage name when you were a kid. Well, if I changed my name to Dolenz, that's how it would feel to me. Like I was taking on an identity that's not really my own for an artificial reason that goes against my preferences. I mean, if your dad hadn't been in show business already, you'd have kept your name as Dolenz, wouldn't you?"

Micky admitted that was true. "Okay, that covers the why, but what about the secrecy? I don't like that, Gabby. We've been slagging on Wendy for keeping things from Mike and you're doing the same thing to me."

"Micky, it's true, I was afraid to raise the topic because I knew it would upset you, but I don't think it's on the same scale of deception as what Wendy's doing to Mike, do you?"

Micky shrugged and said "Well, no, but an inch is as good as a mile."

"Okay, you're right. I apologize. In that case, can I mention something that's been bugging me?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"I'm a little bothered by your occasional forays lately into drug use. I know it's been situational and you've had what you felt were good reasons to step outside the lines you drew in swearing them off and I've gone along with it (not that I could really stop you anyway), but I'm worried that you may start finding more reasons to be doing them. I'm uneasy about it. I don't want to tell you not to use them and I'm not telling you that now, but I just wanted to mention that to you that it's been on my mind and that I do have reservations about it. It scares me. I worry that you'll come home and still be wasted and endanger me, or that it will change your personality and put our relationship on the rocks."

Micky tried very hard not to get defensive or rationalize anything in his mind. He tried to both listen and hear what Gabby was saying. She wasn't judging him nor telling him what to do. She was just expressing her feelings and concerns. "Okay, I hear you and I understand what you're saying. I will definitely keep that in mind. I know anything can become a slippery slope and that although we're individuals, what I do affects you and vice versa. But Gabby, that's why I'm upset that you didn't tell me you'd made a decision about keeping your name and said nothing to me. Can't you see how that wounds me? It's not just that it punctures a fantasy of mine to have my very own Mrs. Dolenz, like my dad did. It's that you made a decision and didn't tell me, didn't include me, didn't share it with me. That would be like me deciding to get high without clearing it with you first. At least the couple of times I did it, I asked you about it before I did it."

"You're right, Micky. I totally see what you're saying. I understand and I sincerely, humbly apologize. Will you please forgive me for leaving you out of the discussion and my thought process? And is there anything else you want to know or discuss about the name change thing?"

Micky shook his head. "No, I don't need to discuss it anymore, and yes, of course I forgive you. I know that some women these days are opting not to take their husbands' names. It's kind of groovy that you feel like you're willing to buck the system and do that. There's only one thing that kind of bothers me."

Gabby looked wary. "What's that?"

"Well, we're going to have to get new tags for the dogs' collars and hyphenate their names to Levitt-Dolenz."

Gabby laughed. "Oh, well, the vet already knows that's their last name. I gave that name for Schmooshy's medical chart even before we were married, seeing how we were co-parenting him.

Micky started to crack up. "You are just the most, Gabby. You really are my everything. You give me everything I need and some that I don't. Heartache, surprise and annoyance in this instance, but amusement by the boatload, too."

She moved in towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck to nuzzle it. "I aim to please, husband. What else can I do to make you happy and be your everything?"

He licked a stripe up her neck and nibbled her ear, then said in his most seductive voice, "You can take my turn to walk the dogs."

Spring flew by. The guys resumed filming on the movie, which was tentatively titled _Changes_ , recorded the soundtrack and also wrapped up recording their next album, called _The Birds, The Bees & The Monkees_.

For the first time, a Monkees album didn't reach the top spot on the U.S. chart and it didn't chart at all in the U.K. when it was released later that summer. It topped out at Number 3 on the Billboard chart and sold only a million copies, a huge sum of units for an ordinary band, but a real comedown for superstars like the Monkees. Their fired music director took great glee at dancing on their grave, giving an interview to the press in which he declared that the suit he brought against Colgems for wrongful termination yielded the largest settlement in history.

Meanwhile, as Micky had predicted, Michael was starting to break away from the band. He indulged in a hugely expensive vanity project, hiring the best studio musicians he could find — an irony not lost on Micky considering Michael's aversion to them in his earlier days of leading them in mutiny against TBTB — to record an all-instrumental album of Michael's Monkees tunes. He didn't include the rest of the guys in the project, nor ask their opinion of how they felt about a bunch of Monkees tunes being put out in the world sounding like Laurence Welk had regurgitated them. Of course Mike owned the rights to the songs, but the guys' reputations and images were indelibly linked to them, and it was embarrassing when the muzak-like album sank like a stone and reached only Number 144 on the Billboard Pop Albums chart. Mike followed up with another solo project, visiting Nashville and recording some of his rock 'n roll songs with country musicians.

In contrast, Davy made the guys proud and did the group much credit by visiting an 11-year-old little girl who had been injured in Phoenix, Arizona. She had been carrying a Monkees record to the local repair shop to pick up her record player when she was hit by a truck. Her father wrote about her in a letter to Davy, who went in person to visit her. He brought her a new record player that was nicer than her old one, a slide projector, and offered to buy her some records. He also left her his personal phone number and promised to send her one of his tambourines. Jan of course was thrilled with Davy's act of kindness. Even more meaningful was when word eventually circulated to Lynda, she called him and praised him, reflecting on how long a distance he had come from the guy she had known two years before, on that first date at the Dodgers game. His spirits soared with her approbation.

Work on the movie churned slowly away in fits and starts, with many delays. The guys kept busy producing tracks for the next studio album and doing various promotional appearances and interviews to keep their names in the public eye, particularly teasing the upcoming film. For instance, in September, the movie's official name was revealed. It was going to be called _Head_ , at least in part so that someone with a sophomoric sense of humor would be able to use a tagline for the sequel "From the guys who gave you _Head_!"

In the meantime, while the movie was still in post-production, an international tour was announced. The guys would be first stopping in Fiji, and then playing concerts in numerous cities in Australia and Japan. Dawn opted to take the trip with Peter, bringing along baby Charlotte, about whom Peter had become obsessed with writing a song called _Lady's Baby_. Wendy also was on the trip, of course, but neither Gabby nor Jan made the journey, both being working girls. The group had fun stopping off at animal reserves and botanical gardens, and Davy and Micky visited Surfer's Paradise to try their hand with Australian waves. 

When the guys got to Tokyo, Gabby was alarmed to learn that their moves were constricted because they had been issued death threats for daring to schedule concerts at some sacred venues like Budokan, but Micky reassured her that they had plenty of security and had been able to have plenty of fun, or at least he had. He got to geek out at the Nikon camera factory and the Honda motorbike plant.

Right after the tour ended, tragedy struck the Monkees family. Davy had stopped off in Manchester on the way home to L.A. to see his father, who had been ailing. Just two weeks later, he passed away. The entire Monkees family travelled to Britain to attend the funeral. Jan got to meet Davy's sisters for the first time, and they were much comforted to know that he had someone in his life who loved him and was looking after his heart and well-being. They were also very touched that Davy's entire retinue of friends and bandmates had made the trip to pay their respects to his family. Gabby sat with Davy's sisters and talked about how they had formed their own makeshift family over the years, while they listened with interest and wonder.

The group left Britain after three days, but Davy stayed behind with his sisters. Suddenly, everything started to move very fast and there was not much time for Davy to mourn. _Head_ was finally being released and he had to get back to the states. It was being slow-rolled out city by city after a premier in New York City. The guys were mystified and dissatisfied not only with this approach to opening the film, but with the entire advertising campaign. The movie posters featured a grainy black and white image of a guy whom nobody knew or could identify, and the name Monkees appeared nowhere in the print or trailer ads. Needless to say, if their fans had been trying to seek out their movie they wouldn't have found it. And even if they had found it, they most likely couldn't have seen it, not only because it wasn't showing in very many places, but because the movie had been given an R rating and most Monkees fans were below the age of 17. 

The movie garnered mostly negative critical reviews and grossed an embarrassingly pitiful amount of money. Nobody understood it and most critics agreed that it either made no sense at all, or it made perfect sense, provided that you were stoned heavily on psychedelic drugs while watching it. What the Monkees saw as an opportunity to parody and skewer their bubblegum, wholesome image and to say something more profound and artistic, the audience and critics saw as a pretentious, incomprehensible acid trip. Even the music, which was excellent, got no credit. _The Porpoise Song_ , a lushly layered psychedelic tune penned by Carol King only made it to Number 62 on the Billboard chart and the _Head_ soundtrack topped out at Number 45.

The guys went from one disaster to the next. They had contracted to do another TV special, this one to be called _33 1/3 Revolutions Per Monkee_. It ended up being a rehash of the losing formula of the parody and social commentary storyline that they had tried and failed with in _Head_ , and the director they hired for some unfathomable reason chose to feature the Monkees much less than their guest stars, so that the whole production appeared to be in a very odd sense a punishment rather than a reward for the guys. To add to the already built-in handicaps, the network chose to air the program in competition with the Academy Awards and virtually no one watched it. 

All this was just too much for Peter. He was at his wit's end. The band was no longer functioning as a unit and hadn't been since _Headquarters_. Mike was clearly filching Monkees studio time to plant the seeds for his solo career when it suited him to leave the band, but in the meantime Peter knew he couldn't outlast him and try to swing the band's fulcrum back towards the center again. It was just too off-kilter. Peter also didn't want to be an actor. He was a musician. He wanted to be in a band. Even if the Monkees hadn't gotten caught up with the TV specials and the movie, he believed they still weren't a collaborating, functioning, cohesive band and hadn't been for some time. He told the guys he was leaving after the _33 1/3_ special. He was going to have to buy out the remaining three records of his contract, but he was willing to do it to save his sanity and his soul.

Mike, Micky and Davy soldiered on. They got themselves together for new publicity shots as a threesome and booked guest spots on television shows like the _Glen Campbell Show_ (ironically he had played as a studio musician on one of their early albums) and the _Johnny Cash Show_ , plus _Laugh-In_ (which Mike literally scowled his way through) and _Hollywood Squares_. 

They put out two more albums, _Instant Replay_ and _The Monkees Present_ , though by then the parade had passed them by. Released in February of 1970, _Instant Replay_ charted respectably at Number 32, with the single _Tear Drop City_ hitting Number 56, but for a Monkees record, it was a huge comedown. The following October, the trio released _The Monkees Present_ , which never got higher than Number 100, though it did spawn three mildly successful singles. 

That was enough for Mike and he decided to pack it in and leave the group. He was invited by some friends to start a new band called the First National Band, which was primarily a country rock band and he jumped at the opportunity. The main attraction seemed to be that the band allowed him total control. He wrote virtually all the music and produced all the albums himself. They were first, last and always Michael Nesmith productions, just how he liked it.

Surprisingly, Wendy didn't jump ship. She stayed with the Monkees while adding the First National Band to her roster of acts. Since FNB signed with RCA, the parent company of Colgems, there was no conflict of interest and the two companies allowed her to split her time between the two bands. She even managed to get RCA to stump up and give her a salary in addition to the one Colgems was paying her.

So now Davy and Micky were a twosome. They had one more album to produce under their contract with Colgems, and they decided to just eke it out and finish their run. They enjoyed working together, and they both had more songs they wanted to do. They produced an album called _Changes_ , a title they concocted with a touch of black humor over a pint or three at Davy's favorite British pub in Santa Monica on the Promenade. _  
_

_Changes_ tanked at Number 152 on the Hot 100, but it did produce a single, _Oh My My_ , accompanied by a cheesy video of Davy and Micky riding motorcycles and horses, that made it to Number 98 in June of 1971.


	20. Chapter 20

The end of the Monkees was just like how Simon & Garfunkel sang about at the Monterey Pop Festival in 1967 — the sound of silence. Suddenly there were no phone calls, and no early morning alarm clocks ringing. And just as Micky's career was winding down to a standstill, Gabby's was shooting off like a rocket. She had been keeping her eye on a small but important national organization that had been attempting to open field offices in major cities all over the country and was looking to recruit a director for the Los Angeles branch. The National Organization For Women was formed in 1966, its statement of purpose reading "the time has come to confront, with concrete action, the conditions that now prevent women from enjoying the quality of opportunity and freedom of choice which is their right, as individual Americans, and as human beings." Its main issues were women's reproductive rights, equality under the law, pay equity, preventing gender discrimination, and trying to get the Equal Rights Amendment to the U.S. Constitution passed.

Gabby had been to the group's headquarters in Washington, D.C. twice for interviews with various founding members. It was the beginning of October, and she was just walking in the door from her third and final interview when she found Micky asleep on the couch, one dog lying across his legs and the other across his chest. She smiled and walked over to him and stroked his curls from his forehead.

"Hey, Sleepymop. It's the middle of the day. Don't you have some mad science experiment or piece of furniture to be working on?" 

Micky stirred and Oodles, taking great offense to his sleep being disturbed, jumped off the couch in a huff. Schmooshy was made of sterner stuff and continued to snort like a truffle pig. Cracking open one eye, Micky winced from the brightness of the sunlight and said "Ouch, it's day? I was dreaming so hard I thought it must be night."

"That's because you've got your days and nights mixed up. When did you go to sleep last night?"

"Oh, I think it musta been about three. There was a Godzilla triple feature that I just had to watch."

Gabby crossed her arms and looked at him dubiously. "Micky, you can't go on like this. You're not taking good care of yourself. I know you've been through three years of exhausting activity, but your body is all out of whack. And I'm not sure your mind is in any better shape. Maybe you ought to think about visiting that therapist you used to see."

Micky sat up abruptly and the dog slid down into his lap, now seriously annoyed but too lazy to follow the other dog's example and have a snit by jumping off the couch. "Now wait a minute, Gabby, I'm just trying to get my feet under me after a pretty heavy duty chapter of my life ending. It's not like I'm whacked out like I was back when I got mauled by that girl."

Gabby scooted Micky's legs out of the way so that she could join him on the couch. "I know that, my Micky. I'm not saying you're out of your tree or on the ledge. I'm just saying that I think you've been through a life-altering experience that few if any people go through or can understand, and you might be taking it out on your body and mind in a way that's not healthy. You might find it helpful to have someone professional to talk to about it. I could be wrong, though. Maybe you just need to talk to one of the guys. Why don't you give Davy a call and see how he's doing, maybe get together with him?"

Micky leaned into Gabby and put his arm around her. "That's a good idea. I'll do that. Sorry I got defensive. I know I'm not acting like a normal person right now. I just need some time to get my act back together."

"That's okay, Micky. I remember the first time you suggested I see a shrink about Nick. I think my response was 'fuck no!' Very mature of me, for sure!" They laughed and hugged.

Micky ran a hand over Gabby's hair and asked "Now let's talk about something much more important and interesting. How'd your interview go?"

Gabby's grin lit up her face. "I got it, Micky. I'm the new Executive Director of the soon-to-be Los Angeles office of the National Organization for Women. All I have to do now is find us office space, hire some staff and make it all happen. Easy, right?"

"Shoot, for you, Gabby, it's a cinch! Congratulations, my wife. I'm so proud of you." He hugged her and kissed her on each ear. "Want to celebrate with a shower, a bath, a meal, or a walk with the dogs?"

"I want to do all those things, but first I need to go in to the _Open City_ office and give my notice! Let me do that first, and then I'll bring food back with me. Tell me what you want, I'll bring something back, and we'll hermetically seal ourselves in the house for the rest of the day and night. Okay?"

Micky looked disappointed, but conceded. "Okay. I guess that makes the most sense, given that there's pretty much nothing in the house to eat and the sooner you quit this job the sooner you can start the next one. It's just, well, you know me — Mister instant gratification."

"I know, my Micky. I'll be quick. Wait a minute, if there's no food in the house, what have you been eating while I've been away?"

Micky shrugged "Oh, this and that. The boys have been sharing their dog food with me."

Gabby cracked up and said "Okay, you are this close to my insisting you go see that shrink. I'll be back soon. I'll call on the way home to see what you want to eat." She stood up and gave him a kiss. "I love you."

"I love you, too, my Gabby. Hurry back."

Gabby dashed out the door and Micky shlumped over to the guest bathroom that no one ever used. He turned on the taps and rinsed off his face, attempting to revive himself and throw off the wisps of sleep still clinging to his eyes. He opened the drawer to the left of the sink and rummaged in the back, pulling from it a bottle of pills. He shook one out into his hand and popped it in his mouth, swallowing it dry. He hid the bottle again and then looked at himself for a moment in the mirror. Not liking what he saw, he shuddered and looked away, fleeing the bathroom and returning to the couch to curl up in a tight ball. He wasn't tired now, just disgusted with himself. He began to cry and hug himself, rocking back and forth.

The phone rang about 45 minutes later and it was Gabby, wanting to know what Micky would like to eat and he gave his request. He hung up the phone, knowing that now that Gabby was back, he was going to have to find his appetite somewhere and dreading it. He didn't eat much these days. He just couldn't bring himself to eat. Somehow, not eating made him feel more in control of his emotions. Fortunately, he hadn't lost much weight because what he lost in calories from starving, he made up for it with drinking. He knew that this was a sucker's bet, though. Sooner or later, Gabby was going to figure it out. All of it. Not just the lack of food, not just the not sleeping. She was going to figure out that he was numbing out in all sorts of unhealthy ways. She had just been too busy lately with pursuing this job and keeping up with the other one to put two and two together. Maybe he needed a good cover story. The wheels started turning in his mind and suddenly he had one. Softball.

Gabby came bounding in with a bag of burgers and fries. Micky had requested these because he knew the salt would make it easier for him to eat. Anything with salt was irresistible to him. Soon they were at the kitchen table chatting and eating dinner, almost as if everything was normal. Micky began to weave his alibi's net around his secret life of misery.

"You know, I was thinking about what you said and I think I have a great way to break out of this funk I've gotten myself into. I'm gonna call around and see if I can get my friends interested in playing softball. There's a field nearby and we have so many friends in this neighborhood and in the Hollywood area. And I hear John and Ringo like to play and do American stuff like that. It makes them feel like regular guys. There's this rocker Alice Cooper who I know would be interested. I'm gonna call him. Keith Moon also digs softball."

Gabby nodded and agreed "That sounds good, Micky. Get social, get a little exercise, talk to your peers, people who know what you're feeling."

So Micky founded what became known as The Hollywood Vampires, a group of rock 'n rollers who would get together and occasionally play softball and definitely meet for drinks, usually at the Rainbow Bar and Grill in West Hollywood. Founding members were Micky, Alice Cooper, John Lennon, Ringo Star, Harry Nilsson and Keith Moon, all legendary heavy drinkers. Actually, Micky had to step up in class in boozing to really become one of the gang, though he was already well on the way, unbeknownst to Gabby. Now he'd have an excuse for losing weight or being drunk — "Softball's good exercise, Gabby," he'd say when his ribs protruded, or, "Of course I've got to have a drink with the fellas after the game," to explain his being totally shitfaced.

This worked for about three months. But Gabby was not just a bright and smart person, she was more perceptive than the proverbial canary in a coal mine, and Micky couldn't escape her empathic telepathy. She could read a person's pain and smell a person's bullshit a mile away. Micky reckoned the only reason he had managed to get away with it for as long as he had was because Gabby was overwhelmed with work in trying to launch her new venture and didn't have all her wits about her herself these days. In fact, Micky had been trading on that fact, counting on it, playing it like he had the drums, with expertise and finesse. Until New Year's Day, when Gabby finally had a day off.

They were sitting toe to toe on the couch, nestled under a blanket, watching the Rose Parade on the television, when Gabby suddenly fixed Micky with a stare that went right through him and he knew the jig was up. He tried to brazen it out and say nothing. He just looked away at the TV screen, but he could feel her eyes boring into him. He looked back at her uneasily and shifted uncomfortably. She cocked an eyebrow. He tried to smooth his facial features and appear completely blasé. No good. She just continued to stare at him unremittingly. They had always been able to communicate wordlessly, and right now, she was giving him a ration of shit without opening her mouth or saying a word.

Finally, he just casually said "What?"

Gabby said "Oh, I think you know what, my Micky, and you know that I know what, so cut the shit." She pulled her hand out from underneath the blanket and produced Micky's secret stash of pills from the guest bathroom drawer. "And this isn't the only thing that stinks to high heaven around here. Those softball games of yours — they're a crock of shit, too. They're your cover story for everything else you're doing to punish your body and mind for the end of your Monkees career. Anything else I'm missing?"

Micky thought about what to say. He remembered once before when he was at a crossroads with Gabby. She was lying injured in a hospital bed and she asked him how he could have said such hurtful things to her in the argument they had had before they had parted, a few days before the protest march that had landed her in the hospital. She had accused him of behaving as cruelly as her abusive ex-boyfriend Nick. He had asked himself whether he ought to try to rationalize his behavior or try to explain it, and if he could explain it, whether it was even worth trying to make amends to her if he couldn't give her the answers she was looking for or make her happy, or if making her happy meant making himself miserable. Now he found himself standing in a similar spot. He was deep into his own pathology, his coping mechanisms seemed to be the only thing that brought him comfort, and he was loathe to give them up, even if they were destroying his relationship with her.

"No. As usual, you're spot-on. You've got it all figured out."

"Why, Micky?"

"Why what? Do you mean why am I doing these things, or why am I doing them behind your back?"

"I guess both, though I'm more concerned about the fact that you're hurting yourself. My ego is less important than your well-being."

Micky's face melted into anguished agony. His facial muscles began to twitch, his teeth chattered and then the tears started to fall. Finally, he let out a keening howl that so startled Oodles that he immediately began to imitate it.

Alarmed, Gabby scooted towards Micky and took him in her arms. She began to rock him like a little boy and stroked his hair. Now her cheerleader voice was gentle and encouraging.

"That's right, Micky. Let it out. Let go of it. Clear out all that junk you've been holding on to."

Micky continued in this state of being for several long minutes without speaking any words. She thought the tears would subside and then he'd talk to her about everything. Instead, when the crying subsided, he just pulled away from her, wiped his eyes, went to the bathroom to splash water on his face, and then went up to their bedroom and passed out from the stress.

At first, Gabby was upset, lonely, bewildered and even offended. But then she remembered that there had been other occasions when Micky had reacted this way and she had misinterpreted his actions for indifference. She knew she needed to just be patient and wait for him to come to her in his own time. Right now, he needed rest. That's what his body and mind were asking for, and that's what he would get. At least he hadn't lied to her or tried to make excuses. She wasn't sure that wasn't still coming once Micky gathered his wits, but she didn't think so. He might be in denial, but he wouldn't insult her or hurt her purposely. She needed to be supportive and help him through this difficult time in his life. She had taken him for better or worse. This was the worse. She would love him enough for both of them until he could love himself again.

The sun had set and it was past time for dinner. Gabby heated up some soup, put it on a tray, and carried it into the bedroom for Micky. She paused a moment before waking him and took note of the posture of his sleep. He was curled up on himself like a new fern frond that had yet to unfurl. Not tense, but percolating and regenerating its energy, finally getting some decent sleep. With some misgivings, she went ahead and woke him up, feeling instinctually that essential to that regeneration was nourishment. 

Micky's frame had grown gaunt and frail yet at the same time bloated. She had diagnosed the frailty from his lack of eating and the bloating from his drinking. The last piece of the puzzle to slot into place was the mystery of how he managed to function on so little sleep. The answer came when she followed the trail of a torn piece of toilet paper into the guest bathroom that one of the dogs had left and she noticed that left hand drawer a tiny bit askew. Micky had the supremely annoying habit of never completely closing drawers and cabinets and her eyes were compulsively drawn to them to close them and then inwardly and sometimes directly vent her frustration at him. Instead of closing the drawer, she stopped to ask herself why the drawer would be open in a bathroom neither she nor Micky used. She looked in the drawer and found his stash and got her answer. Not rocket science. He was taking uppers to boost his energy level.

She gently rubbed his shoulder to urge him awake. "Come on Micky, wake up. I brought you something to eat. I know you might not be hungry, but just have a little. It's nice and salty." 

Micky sat up and yawned, then did a cat stretch. He actually looked fairly peaceful. He breathed in deeply through his nose and exhaled like he had just returned from a long, arduous journey. 

"Thanks, babe."

He sat with the soup and had a few sips, rubbed at his eyes, then couldn't think of any more delaying tactics. He knew the time of reckoning had come.

"Why?" He asked it as if the intervening breakdown and hours of sleep hadn't occurred. He picked up the conversation precisely where they had left off. Gabby would expect no less and he could see she appreciated the respect he was showing her by not evading her question.

"I feel like a snow globe that got all shook up and I can't possibly take inventory of every flake. Each of those flakes is a why. My whole life as I knew it just stopped and I don't know who I am or what to do or where to go."

Gabby looked at him skeptically but not without compassion. "Micky, you're exactly the same person as before the Monkees ended. You're an extraordinarily talented musician, singer and songwriter. You're my husband, a father of two," they both grinned. "You're a friend to many, you're a citizen with a voice, you're a Dolenz family member." Gabby suddenly realized that was perhaps of the most significance. "What do you think your dad would advise you to do in your situation?"

Micky furrowed his brow, closed his eyes, and concentrated intensely. His expression cleared and a small smile broke upon his lips. "My dad used to always say 'Follow the fishes' when he was between jobs."

Gabby cocked her head uncomprehendingly. "What does that mean?"

"He meant to go find the opportunities, don't wait for them to come to you. He said that if he couldn't find acting jobs, he'd be just as happy being a spaghetti slinger, and that's what he ended up doing. Though being Dad, he did it on a grand scale. He opened up a fancy restaurant that was a real hotspot for the in-crowd in Hollywood." Micky was grinning with reminiscences.

"So if you took your dad's advice, what would be swimming in your fishpond?"

Micky laid the tray aside and leaned back, propping his arms behind his head. "Well, I can tell you what's not in the pond. No band that I respect or has a decent recording contract wants to hire an ex-superstar who used to play to sold out arenas of tens of thousands of teenyboppers. And no label is interested in bankrolling me as a solo artist."

"Okay, I dig, that covers where you've been wallowing in for the last few months. But let's stick with what you just said in the last few minutes. I think your dad was telling you something important. What's in the pond now? You have a ton of talent and connections, Micky."

"Well, if I just went with what interested me, I'd try for theater, maybe even Broadway. I'd probably have to start smaller though, maybe regional. I'd also really like to parlay that experience I got behind the camera into further work, ultimately becoming a director and maybe a producer."

"Okay, so those are two totally different tracks and huge new worlds to explore. Plus you've got acting to fall back on, which sounds ridiculous to us mortals, by the way. Why don't you take life by the brass ring, my very gifted, lucky Micky?"

Micky scoffed and challenged "Lucky? Who says?"

Gabby fixed him with her "don't bullshit a bullshitter" look. "I say it, Micky. You're gifted, you're healthy, you're young, you're handsome, charming, experienced and wide open to more new experiences. You have life laid out in front of you. Think about your cousin George. Think about all the things he's not going to get to do because he made the ultimate sacrifice in Vietnam."

Micky winced as if Gabby had slapped him across the face. "That's a low blow."

"No it isn't, Micky. If I were handing out low blows, I'd point you to the people who are still alive and who don't have all the opportunities that you have. People who live in poverty, who have had no education or who are discriminated against because they are colored people or female or handicapped. People who don't have their health and who overcome incredible odds despite all the challenges they face on a daily basis. I'd point out the women who are fleeing abusive husbands and can't work because they have children who need care or who work and leave their children with strangers, and the husbands who have no education or job skills who are having to work three low-paying jobs to support their families. I'd talk about the illiterate kids who attend still essentially segregated schools that are underfunded who will grow up and never reach their full potential. You want me to go on, or are you done feeling sorry for yourself?"

Micky lifted his gaze to Gabby's fiery eyes and felt shame and remorse. She was laying it all out for him and giving him her special brand of perspective. She had a way of pulling back and seeing things from a distance and comparing situations to others, getting a more objective view and syncing things up to gain a reality check. She had always been the one to pull him back from the brink, to keep him from his own excesses and immaturity. 

"Do I have an option to keep feeling sorry for myself, Gabriella?" he sauced back at her.

"Nope, you don't. Not on my watch. This house is Kryptonite for misery, Micky. It can't survive here. We may let it creep in and stay for a spell, but it doesn't get to stay for long. Here's a rule about parties that you really ought to know, seeing as how you you've been doing so much of it lately. Pity parties should have a very small guest list and be of an extremely short duration. I'm declaring your pity party over, and we're sending all the guests home. So all those demons and misery guts and self-doubts hanging out in your head are hereby requested to leave and get the fuck out. I want my Micky back. You get me? Do you see any flaw in that logic?"

"I do agree, Mr. Spock, and I see no flaws in your logic. Can I still hang out with my buddies as long as I do productive stuff the rest of the week?"

"Of course, Micky. I'm not trying to shut down your social life, though it's getting pretty debauched and don't think I haven't noticed it. Do you realize there was actually an item about you guys in a gossip column last week with pictures? That's how I figured out that your softball league was just a cover story to go get wasted every week. Hollywood Vampires, huh? Humph!" She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head.

Micky's eyes widened in surprise and then the look of shame returned. "I'm sorry, Gabby. You must think I'm a pig."

Gabby shook her head. "Nope, wrong animal. You're more of a jackass."

Micky huffed out a small laugh. 

"Micky, I'm going to ask you again what I asked you before. Do you think you ought to go see a therapist to have someone to share your feelings with?"

"If I say no, will I lose your trust?"

"No, but I'll continue to believe you're in denial, that you're suffering more than you should be, and that you're jeopardizing not only your own situation but our relationship."

Micky complained "Gabby, that sounds like emotional blackmail."

Gabby tried not to hit back. She tried to keep her voice level. "No, Micky, it's not. I gave you plenty of time to prove me wrong, to do your own thing, to solve this issue using your own coping mechanisms, and you totally sabotaged your health even further. Am I supposed to stand by and watch you fall apart? Am I supposed to wait until your self-destructive choices start harming me? Because they will. I'm not going to be passive and let you use your best judgment anymore. I'm going to fight for you, Micky."

Micky knew he was cornered. He had only one last card to play, and he threw it down. "I didn't insist that you go to therapy about Nick. I let you make the decision and come to it in your own time."

"Micky, you may think you had nothing to do with it, just because you didn't order me to do it, but I did it so that you and I could totally commit to each other, so that our relationship could grow and be healthy. I did it for you as much or even more than for myself. I needed to do it so that I would be fit to be the woman you loved. I'm not telling you when to go to therapy or if you have to. But I'm strongly suggesting it because we've both walked that path before and it's helped us in the past. The only reason I can think of why you wouldn't want to go is that you're in denial or you're nursing some addiction that needs serious treatment and you don't want to give it up and you're afraid the therapist is going to discover it and make you address it."

Micky's fists balled up and his anger rose to his cheeks. "I am NOT addicted to anything!"

"Then what's the hangup with therapy, Micky? You regained your whole life the last time you saw a therapist."

"I just don't want you telling me what I should or shouldn't do. _I'll_ decide what I need and when I need it."

"So tell me, Micky. What's in that pill bottle and is that in the category of what you need or is that just recreational? If it's not something you need to function and it's just recreational, since when did you start doing recreational drugs without letting me know? Because if that's the case, then I need to know it's happening so I can take measures so I can feel safe."

Micky looked horrified. "What do you mean, to feel safe? What measures?"

Gabby took the gloves off. "I will not sleep in the same room with you if you're getting high. You may be one hundred percent confident that you won't harm me or violate my body in an inebriated, drug-fueled haze, but I will never again subject myself to that danger. I still have the emotional scars and memories that are indelible that Nick left, even though I've moved on from the trauma. So take your pick, Micky. You can keep on taking your pills of dubious provenance and unexplained therapeutic value, but I'm going to pick another bedroom and sleep with my door locked. Then you can also continue to use drugs and forego therapy. Will that make you happy? Is that the life you want for us?" 

She had broken him. He didn't have a leg to stand on and he knew it. He sighed deeply, forlornly. Reaching for her hands and taking them into his, he raised his tear-filling eyes to hers. 

"No, Gabby, that's not what I want for either of us. I'm caught up in a web of my own making and I'm stuck. I don't want to go through the pain of extraction."

"So you _are_ addicted, aren't you? It's going to involve withdrawal, right?"

Micky nodded.

She pulled him into her arms and hugged him. "Micky, my Micky. Thank you for being honest with me. You can't know it now but someday you will realize how important that is to our future. There is no us without honesty. When I first figured out something was wrong with you, I told myself that I was going to stand by you through this because when I married you, I took you for better or worse. But make no mistake. I am not going to be passive about the worse. I'm going to fight for you, even when it's you who are the one who's blocking the way to our happiness and to your own well-being. So now let's start over. You don't need therapy. You need rehab, don't you?"

Micky shrugged and nodded "Probably."

"Okay, then we need to find a place for you to go to dry out and get the help you need. I will do some research and find someplace private for you."

"Will you come with me?"

Gabby sighed. "Micky, I can't do this with you, even if I wanted to. That's not how it works. I'll take you wherever you're going, but you have to walk this road on your own. Hopefully we can find someplace nearby, maybe even outpatient. Let's just see what's what. Make an appointment with your doctor and we'll start there."

"Okay. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

They sat on the bed, facing each other, not saying anything. Just at that moment, the dogs came in and Oodles easily jumped on the bed, leaving Schmooshy to fend for himself. Of course, he was too small to make the leap up to the bed and he whined to be carried up by someone, not wanting to be left out of a family conclave. Micky reached down and scooped him up. 

Gabby surveyed the scene before her and said "This is worth fighting for, isn't it, Micky? Worth living for? It's enough for you, isn't it? Whatever is in that bottle, I guarantee you it can't possibly make you feel as good as when you run your hand over one of these fluff monsters. Am I right?"

Micky suited words to deed and petted both dogs, one hand on each. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply some of the first satisfaction he'd allowed himself to feel in a long, long time.

"You're right. Gabby?"

"Hmmm?"

"Can I ask for something else that will make me feel good? It's really shitty of me and you're probably not feeling too generous or kindly disposed towards me, but ..."

"Yes."

Micky opened his eyes and looked surprised. "I didn't ask you yet."

"Micky, we are one. You don't need to ask. I know. You need some affection. Some loving. Come here. Tell me what you want, what you need."

He smiled tentatively then frowned and more tears formed in his eyes again. "I have no right. I've frightened you. You don't feel safe with me."

"I'm okay. I can take care of myself. Do we still have those restraints? I can always pull those out if I need to."

A flicker of a wink passed over her face and then was gone, replaced by a grin.

"Tell me, Micky, what do you want?"

"Will you please love on me all over, and then make love to me?"

"Yes, my Micky. I'll do that. Where?"

"Downstairs, in front of the fire, like when I came home the day after our long tour and you asked me to marry you."

Gabby grinned and screwed up her mouth. "Well, now, I didn't really ask you, that would have been against our agreement. I just made it super clear that I'd like to marry you."

Micky smiled and said "There. I want you to love me there. I want to go back to that day."

She stood up and held her hand out to him. "Come with me, Micky. You need some loving and care. Let's go light a fire — outside and inside."

They walked to the main room and laid out some blankets and pillows on the floor. While Micky took care of lighting a fire, Gabby let the dogs out and made sure they were cozy in their kennel play pens. When she came back in, Micky was standing in front of the fire, shifting from foot to foot and rubbing his arms, looking uncomfortable.

"Are you jonesing, Micky?"

He nodded.

"Go ahead and do what you need to do. You may as well just live how you've been doing until we get some professional help." She reached for the bottle, which was still on the couch where she had been sitting when she confronted him, and tossed it to him. He took a pill and swallowed it dry. He took a step forward towards Gabby, then hesitated. She stepped forward and closed the gap.

"Micky. I love you. Never doubt that. Now let me show you some of that love. You need it."

He nodded but waited for her to approach him. She squared her body up to his and ran her hands all over it. She started at his scalp, running her fingers and nails through his hair, and he leaned in to her touch like the dogs often did when she found a tickle spot on their backs. Her fingers travelled down to caress his neck and flick across his clavicle bones, then down his arms and hold them firmly at the biceps and squeeze them, steadying him and letting him know she was there and he was alive and it was all okay between them.

She let her fingers slip underneath his shirt, lifting up the hem and running up his belly, swollen from excess alcohol while simultaneously shrunken in from lack of food, his ribs protruding as she made her way up his torso. He flinched as he realized she was taking inventory of all his defects. She held him steady and quieted him like a frightened horse.

"Shhhh, Micky. We're going to get you healthy again. Good food, less booze, some real exercise walking the dogs, maybe you'll start surfing again. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" She leaned down and kissed his belly and ribs.

He nodded and murmured "Mhmm, that would be nice. I forgot all about that. I did some great surfing with Davy in Australia. You know what kept going through my mind that whole time, though? That little surfboard I bought and kept stored in the broom closet at Casa Pulido so I could go surfing at RAT Beach. Can we go there soon?"

"Yes, my Micky. I would love that. We'll definitely do that." She continued to raise his shirt and her lips reached his chest and nipples. "Oooooh, I've missed those little nubbins." Micky giggled as she complimented the one anatomical feature of his that drove Gabby wild even before her conscious brain would allow her to even seriously consider dating him. She gave them a thorough going-over with her tongue that brought Micky to his knees.

She ran her dry lips over his back and shoulders, an area he wouldn't feel self-conscious about, then used her fingernails to stimulate him with a bit more pressure. She let her fingers skate down to his ass and slip down his pajama pants, giving a squeeze to each cheek. She rubbed up against him and pulled him down into a kiss. He was very tentative, even apologetic at first. Then she brought out her inner cheerleader and tried to set him at ease.

"It's okay, Micky. I'm here, I'm with you. I'm not going anywhere. As long as we're a team and support each other, I have you and will give you all of me. Now take what you want, or tell me what you want and I'll give it to you."

He whispered "Love on me, love me, all over."

She stripped him naked and laid him down in front of the fire with his head propped up on a pillow so he could watch everything she was doing. Micky was a very visual person, and he needed to see the connection between them.

She kissed him from top to toe, literally. Affection was the chief driver behind her kisses to begin with. It's what Micky needed above all, her reassurance that she loved him and would stand by him through his travails. He needed to know that she forgave him for behaving in a way that she felt endangered her safety and traumatized her by recalling her drug-fueled, abusive ex-boyfriend. He had to internalize that she took her wedding vows seriously and he had her loyalty and every bit of strength she could lend him.

"How are you feeling, Micky?" Gabby was massaging Micky's thighs and calves, now.

"Relaxed. Content. Safe."

"Do you want to leave it there or do you want to feel something more intense?"

"I think I could handle more."

Gabby smiled impishly. "Okay, here it comes." She began to tongue and lick him. He immediately reacted with delicious shivers and moans. Her fingers began to tighten on his muscles and flesh, digging in and kneading it more firmly, feeding it into her mouth, then her teeth, nibbling and chewing at him.

Slowly, her mouth moved towards his body's center. She worked her tongue all around his groin, licking the smooth, almost hairless flesh next to his package. Finally, she dipped her tongue down to his balls and let it play over them, tickling and massaging them. He hissed with pleasure and leaned in, so she took one into her mouth and rolled it around, gently tonguing it and making him moan and shiver convulsively. She repeated the move on the other side. Dipping down, she licked behind them and tongued the smooth expanse of skin, then back up to his balls and straight up the length of his penis. He wasn't expecting this move yet and it zinged right to his heart, making him gasp for breath. 

She set to her task now and gave Micky a first class blowjob, milking him then pulling away, bringing him to the brink and then holding off. She would then gently tongue and tickle him, or descend back down to his balls, then return back up to his cock and deep throat him for just a moment and then hold back again. Finally, he was moaning and begging, "Gabby, Gabby, please, please..."

She decided to bring him home now. She quickly removed her pajama pants and climbed atop him, urging him to go ahead and bring himself off and not worry about her, or as she put it, "Come and get it, Micky. Come on home." He gripped her hips and only needed a few thrusts and then he was over the top. Micky was a shouty orgasmer as a rule, but this was extraordinary even by his standards. He shouted and also sounded like he was unleashing some demons that had been tormenting him. His emotion morphed quickly again to devastation and tears and he let loose a torrent. Gabby leaned down and took him in her arms and hugged and cradled him.

"Micky, my Micky. It's okay. Yes, that's it. Let it go. You're okay. We're going to get through this. You have to make up your mind that you're down for the fight. Okay? Hmm?"

Micky nodded and gasped "Only if you help me, Gabby. I can't do it without you."

"I'm going to help you, Micky. You helped me heal when I got the shit kicked out of me at that protest march. You helped me move past being used and abused by Nick. I'm going to stand by you. But you have got to promise me you're going to help yourself. Otherwise, it's not going to do a spit's worth of good. You're a man of character, Micky. Now you have to step up and live up to that. If you want everything else in life that you've been dreaming of, you've got to live your life with character and integrity."

Micky looked bewildered. "What do you mean?"

Gabby gave him a serious look. "How can you expect me to have a baby with you if you can't take care of yourself, Micky? How can you be a husband and father if you can't be your own man? A man I can honor and respect and not fear?"

"You'd have my baby?"

"I sure as hell wouldn't right now. I've been thinking about it. I can't do it now anyway because of my new job, but if you ever want me to consider that as a serious possibility, you have to mend yourself, Micky. Okay? That means you have to get clean and stay clean. You need to find something to do with your life that brings you joy and a bit of an income. And you need to be able to be here for a child. So I'd say you've got your work cut out for you. By the time you get all that sorted out, I'll be ready to revisit the topic again. I promise you that."

Micky clutched at Gabby like a drowning man reaching for the last life preserver. "Gabby, Gabby, please keep being the strong, no nonsense person you are. Don't let me have my way until I'm ready for it."

"I'll stay strong, Micky, or I'll dump your ass. That's our bargain. And you promised that to me. We should have put that in our wedding vows, right?" She was trying to coax a laugh out of him. It worked.

"Yeah, that would have gone over well with your Jewish mother and her _Hadassah_ friends," he laughed.

"What do you want now? Bath, shower, food, sleep?"

"I want you."

"You can have me, Micky, don't get me wrong, but you look very tired and I'd like you to let me take care of you. Want to give me a rain check?"

"No. I want you. Here, now, at my lowest ebb, so that you'll be able to tell the difference as I get better."

Gabby nodded. "I like how your mind works, Micky. You always have been able to set the scene so well. Okay, if you're set on that, have at me."

She'd barely said the word "me" when his lips were on her. He'd just been waiting for consent, as he always did, but it almost seemed perfunctory, like the starter's pistol at a race and then he was off. He was hungry for her, famished. It had been a while since they'd had sex. He'd been spaced out and sort of avoiding her to try to throw her off the scent, and she'd been preoccupied with work and knew Micky was off his game and didn't want to push him for physical affection he didn't feel up to granting. Now he was all over her, almost feral. She was almost a bit frightened. She needed to slow things down.

"Micky, wait, wait."

"Huh?"

"Slow down, ease up. You're scaring me. I feel like you're coming on really strong. What's going on?"

"Oh, God, Gabby. I'm so sorry. I'm acting like a hungry animal devouring you. I feel like I haven't had you in so long and I'm famished. And maybe a small part of me feels like this might be the last time I'll ever have you again."

"Micky, Micky. Listen to me." She gripped him by the biceps and shook him. "I'm not going anywhere. I told you that. So that's off your shoulders. Now, the other part. Yes, it's been a while, but mostly because you've been avoiding me. Want to tell me why?"

Micky bowed his head in shame.

"I didn't want you to figure out what was going on with me. The starving, the drinking, the drugs, the emotional turmoil. I also don't feel like I look very good naked and didn't want you to be disgusted by me."

"Okay, I understand that. I think what I just did a few minutes ago should take that burden off your shoulders now, too. Right?"

"Yeah, true." Micky smiled, remembering the ecstasy she had just granted him. 

"Okay, now let's pick up where we left off. You said you wanted me and I gave consent."

Micky shook his head. "Not good enough now, Gabby. I need more. I need you to ask for it, beg for it, I need to know you don't feel unsafe or I can't do it."

"Okay. When you look at me, Micky, do you see a woman or a prime rib roast?"

Micky guffawed and said "A woman!"

"Okay, then you have my permission. I'm not afraid of you anymore. I felt like a gazelle and you were a lion on the savannah. Please make love to me with as much enthusiasm as you can muster, Micky."

He smiled at Gabby's quick wit and ability to recalibrate the delicate situation. He moved in again for another kiss, this one full of passion instead of insatiable hunger. He undressed her the rest of the way and laid her out. He gave her a similar going over as she gave him, starting with affection and moving to more sexual and sensual stimulation. He dove between her legs for a quick hello but then spent many long minutes loving on her breasts. He continually dragged moisture from her hole up to her nipples and spread it around and pinched them, then licked it off, which drove her absolutely crazy. Then he descended back down to her coochie and began to lick and suck, bringing her to the very brink of orgasm and then plunged himself inside her at the last moment so that she would have something to bear down on as her orgasm washed over her. She wrapped her legs around his back and dug her heels into his backside. He pressed his hand down on her love button to affirm the waves of pleasure she was feeling and she ground herself against his hand. He kissed her neck and breasts as she moaned and thanked him for the pleasure he had brought her. Finally, as the waves of her climax receded, their tongues dueled in a loving, complicated kiss.

"I love you with all my heart, Gabby. You are my past, present and future. I'm sorry I gave you reason to doubt that. I will work to reaffirm that truth in your mind. Please stay with me and help me be the man I want and need to be. You've always helped me to be a better man. I hope I never give you reason to give up on me."

"As long as you're striving for that goal, Micky, and including me in your efforts, I don't think we can ever be parted or go far wrong. Just never forget the part I play in your life and those efforts. I'm your partner. Never shut me out. Never forget me. I'm here for you. I love you."

They embraced and allowed the fire to warm their naked bodies. Micky reached for the blanket on the couch and wrapped it around them. He stroked Gabby's hair, which was mussed up, smoothing it back into its sleek style. Gabby re-formed his curls into sproingy twirls. 

Within a week, Micky checked in to a private rehabilitation hospital program in Malibu. Gabby was allowed to visit once a week. He opted for the most rigorous program, 90 days. He had a 120-day aftercare outpatient program, plus he was signed up with his old therapist for twice-weekly appointments. Gabby welcomed him home with a Chinese takeout dinner, his favorite red wine (he was still allowed to drink wine but none of the hard shit he had started drinking with his Hollywood Vampire buddies), and then a choice of shower or bath. Micky chose shower with a side of sex, then more sex in the bedroom, then a relaxing bath to debrief about what he had learned at rehab and what were the terms of his permanent release from aftercare. It was the most loving, gentle, supportive homecoming Micky could have imagined.

Gabby leaned back in the tub. "So you tackled what I think is probably the hardest, bravest part, Micky, getting clean. Staying clean is going to be difficult, too, but from what I've been hearing from the counselors at your clinic I've been talking to, staying clean is a hell of a lot easier than getting clean. So next is finding something to give your life meaning. Have you thought about what you'd like to do next?"

"I'm gonna stick with my dad's advice to follow the fish. I'm going to use a scattershot approach, though. I'm not going to limit it to just one field. I have lots of different talents. So I'm going to audition for movies and television, continue to check out opportunities to record my own music, check out the dinner theater circuit and maybe try to find a venue where I could pair up with one of the guys like maybe Davy, and I'm going to see if I could find a play or few to audition for. If I can get more experience under my belt, I think ultimately what I'd like to be doing is directing, but I think I need more chops for that.

"I've also been thinking about what you said about my being a citizen with a voice. I think I ought to be doing stuff for charity and maybe also political causes. Maybe I could use my music to hold concerts to raise money for some cause. And maybe I could be of help to you with your work in supporting your agenda. If I can support you, please let me know. I do know I've got to get my head out of my ass a bit, get humble, make my life not just all about me. Do you know that Bette Davis opened up a nightclub called the Hollywood Canteen for soldiers in World War II for soldiers to have a place to hang out while on leave? She got all sorts of big name stars to volunteer at the club. And she went out and sold war bonds, too. I need to give more of myself. That would be a way to get my head outta my ass, right?"

"Right. In Judaism, it's called _tzedakah_ , charity. The highest form of charity is the kind that you do and don't tell anyone about. You Monkees did that a lot, doing nice things for little kids while you were on the road, signing autographs and making their day. I think that would add something back into your life that's been missing. I like your game plan, Micky. Just remember, walk before you run. And don't get discouraged if you don't get any nibbles on your lines right away. It took me years to finally find this job I've got now. I had no interest in being a journalist. I did it to get experience and to make the connections. I wanted to do direct action, but I had to pay my dues. You might have to do that as well. You'd be surprised at how satisfying that can be."

"Okay, Gabby. Please keep reminding me to stay humble and to stay open to what life is throwing at me. I have a feeling that there are lots of things around the corners that I can't even imagine."

"I think you are definitely right. And I'll tell you this, Micky. I see both of us as making a difference in this world. I mean, you already have made a huge difference. You made a huge mark on the culture. It may not seem obvious to you now and you're not getting the credit you deserve, but as the years go by, you will be vindicated."

Micky smiled skeptically.

"One more thing, Micky. I want you to write this down on a piece of paper and stick it in your wallet..."

Micky interrupted her. "I know, I know. Keep it in the day, do what's in front of you."

Gabby grinned and gathered Micky in her arms, laying a big smacker on his lips. "You're good, Man."

Micky returned her grin with a cocky wink "I know."


	21. Chapter 21

Micky managed to get some movie roles, as well as a few TV guest appearances. He tried to get some songs produced by pairing up with MGM Studios and various other producers, but the projects fell flat and the songs went either unreleased or didn't chart.

Then an opportunity came up that seemed promising in that it offered him the chance to perform his own music, to reunite with one of the Monkees, to travel and to reclaim his place in the pantheon of rock 'n roll. Two of the outside writers whom the label had used the most, Bobby Hart and Tommy Boyce, approached Micky and Davy about working up an act that would be billed as "the guys who wrote 'em and the guys who sang 'em." It would include some of the Monkees' greatest hits, as well as new tunes the audience had never heard and old standards that the audience might enjoy hearing re-interpreted Monkees-style. The project would include an album, a tour and a television special. Micky was excited about it, and managed to convince Davy it was just what they needed to get back in the swing of things. Since the two had always been close friends and Davy's post-Monkees career was also in the crapper, it was an easy sell.

Many of the venues would be of much lower prestige than the guys were used to. They would be performing at amusement parks and carnivals, quite a comedown from packed arenas that sat between ten and twenty-thousand fans. But they didn't care. They were performers down to the core, and they were pros. They wanted to be out there, performing for people, and that was what mattered. The adoration would be no less intense, just smaller in scale. Oddly, the smaller scale didn't seem to provoke the same fearful anxiety for Micky this time around. He had apparently grown out of his phobia and felt confident about being closer to the fans, which he definitely would be, since this time out, he wouldn't be playing drums. They would be using a backing band, with the four guys mostly singing and occasionally playing some incidental music with instruments as the fancy took them. This also appealed to Micky, as it would allow him to pick up a guitar and play if he wanted to, or to shake a tambourine. It also meant that the guys could be more theatrical in their performance and do more shtick and comedy, which was right in Micky's wheelhouse. He was very excited about the project and raced home to tell Gabby about it.

He found Gabby packing a bag and wondered what was up.

"Oh, Micky, thank God you got home finally. I didn't know where to reach you. I've got to urgently catch a plane to Washington, D.C."

"Why, what came up?"

"You know that court case that's had our organization all up in arms? The one involving abortion?"

"Yeah, Roe something?"

"Yes, that's it, _Roe v. Wade_. Well, the new hearing date just got announced at the last minute and I've got to make it there in time for the pre-hearing strategy session. The hearing is on October 11 and we're going to need at least a week to map out our final arguments and do moot court practices. We'll also be doing press and organizing rallies for every day leading up to the argument. There's a lot of work that needs to get done, and the D.C. office asked for the heads of a few of the major cities to fly in and lend a hand."

"I get it. Well sure, go do your thing, Wonder Woman! Now can I take just a few moments to tell you my news?"

Gabby looked at her watch and sat down on the bed. "Sure, I've got a few minutes. Lay it on me."

He told her about the Dolenz, Jones, Boyce & Hart project. She developed a huge grin on her face as he laid out the rough details. Finally, she sprang up and threw her arms around him.

"Oh, Micky, that sounds just fabulous! It ticks all the boxes for what you want to be doing right now. Plus, it gives you an opportunity to spend time with Davy, which I know you guys will enjoy. Hopefully you'll be able to keep an eye on him! Can I hear more about the nitty gritty details when we talk tonight? I want to hear everything, but I really need to get to the airport."

"Sure, sure. I'll drive you."

"Thanks that would be great. Oh, that's just great about your new gig."

Then she sat down again on the bed. She was thinking about something and it stopped her in her tracks. Micky could see the wheels turning in her head.

He asked her "What? What's going on in your head, Gabby? I can tell there's something important in there."

"Yeah, there is, but this seems like the ultimately shitty time to discuss it."

"Come on, that's really not fair! Now you're going to have me wondering. Spill, or I'm not letting you out that door." Micky folded his arms and leaned against the bedroom door until it closed with a " _thunk_."

She smiled with amusement at his masterfulness.

"Well, it's just – I don't know, this whole fight for women to be able to do what they feel is right with their bodies, the fight for self-determination, the whole discussion about when is it right to have a baby and when is it the absolute wrong time? I've been doing a lot of thinking."

Micky nodded, trying not to get his hopes up.

"I've watched you battle through your difficulties and make your commitment to me and yourself the highest priorities in your life. I've watched you overcome adversity. I've seen you go the extra mile and then some for me. I know you'd lay down your life for me. I'd like to return that commitment to you. I've got my life in order now. I mean, we both have hectic schedules, and neither of us is going to ever be anything like a stay-at-home parent, and if we ever had a kid, that kid's going to be affected by that. But if you really think with all that, you still want kids, I'm on board. Though I would ask you to please consider trying to find work that doesn't take you away from home for so long at a time, and if you do find yourself on one of these crazy tours, you have to negotiate regular breaks to come home and see your kid and me. I know that's hard in your business, but it's important. What do you think?"

Micky approached Gabby slowly and took her face in his hands, cradling it like a delicate piece of china, searching it for any signs of ambivalence. He saw none.

"Gabby. You've made me so happy. I feel so complete now. Like I have everything I could ever want. Even if I never have steady show business work again and I have to make a living at one of my hobbies, like making furniture, if I had a child, it wouldn't matter to me. You can be the one who goes out of town all the time and I'll stay home with the kids. I'll be a whatchamacallit – househusband. You'll be giving me the purpose in my life that wasn't there before. Being your husband is plenty, but being someone's father, that would be the ultimate."

"I know, Micky. That's why I want you to have that gift. I can see that there's something lacking in your life. I know that's what you need. And I want you to have it. So how about if I leave my birth control pill pack at home and leave for Washington a free-agent and let my ovaries start working their normal way again? Sound good?"

Micky grasped her in his arms and squeezed her tightly. "You bet! That will be so exciting! Here, give them to me. I want to put them on the nightstand and look at them every time I think of you, every time I miss you while you're away, every time I think about how excited I am that you want to have my baby!"

She rolled her eyes and laughed. "You are such a goof, Micky!" She tossed a round, flat, wheel-shaped plastic container to him and said "There ya go. There's your future child."

He clutched the pill pack to his heart and then brought it to his lips and kissed it. Carefully, he slotted it down on the night table on his side of the bed, next to his glass of water, reading glasses and latest sci-fi novel he was reading.

"Okay, let me let you pack. Don't forget to bring an Agatha Christie book or something else to read for the plane. I don't want you to work the whole trip. You need to take care of yourself now. I hear it's hard for stressed out ladies to get pregnant."

"Yes, Dr. Spock."

"Don't you mean Mr. Spock?"

"No, Dr. Spock. He's the expert on babies. Why don't you go to the bookstore and check out his books? That will keep you busy while I'm away."

Micky rubbed his hands together with glee. "Yeah, books. Gotta get some books!"

"Okay, but don't go shopping for any clothes or anything. We Jews are superstitious. In fact, you're not even supposed to build the nursery until the baby's born, but we'll let that slide a little. But seriously, let's at least get pregnant before we get carried away. You remember how things went with Peter and Dawn. Let's not get into the same upset, okay? These things take time."

"Okay. Good thinking. Keep it in the day."

"Right," said Gabby. "Now, will you _please_ let me pack so I can get out of here and make it possible for women who _don't_ want to have babies to make that decision for themselves?"

"Ha! That sounds twisted but very noble. Okay, do your thing. I'll wait downstairs for you." Micky bounded downstairs and found the dogs both trying to chew the same bone. It was comical as Oodles would stand up and try to steal it from Schmooshy, but he'd only end up lifting the bone and dog up together, as Schmooshy was tenacious and would not release the bone. He greeted them excitedly.

"Hey, you two, guess what? You might be getting a baby brother or sister sometime soon! Isn't that great?" The two dogs glanced at him, realized he was going to do nothing to adjudicate their ongoing argument over who had primacy over the bone, and promptly ignored him in favor of their more pressing business.

When Micky dropped Gabby off at the airport, she asked "Are you going to your softball game tonight with the Vampires?"

"Yeah, but I promise to be home at my normal early time. In fact, let's make a date for me to call you when I come home, okay?"

"Okay, I really like that. It's for your benefit really, Micky. I'm not riding herd on you. I just don't want you out there flapping in the breeze feeling temptation when I'm on the road."

"Yeah, I know. The temptations and triggers will always be there. I appreciate you not clamping down on me too hard but still being there as a guardrail. It's just the right amount of support. Thanks, babe."

He kissed her and then waved goodbye as she walked in to the airline terminal.

At his softball game that night, Micky mentioned that Gabby had finally agreed to start trying for a child. He got congratulations from some guys and razzed by others.

"Hey, man, that's great. You've been wantin' that haven't you?"

"Ahhh, Micky, you know what that means, your balls in a vice, no more softball games, gotta go home and do daddy duty and be there for the lil' woman!"

"How you gonna be a daddy and be on the road, Mick? My old lady's always yellin' at me I'm never around. I'm always in the doghouse for that and she takes it outta my hide in one of two ways: either she spends all my money, or I gotta go to some fancy cocktail party or other shindig she wants to go to that's not my scene. I swear, kids are just their way of gettin' what they want outta ya."

"Hey, Mick, that kid sure will be a handful. Two parents with such big mouths! Buy plenty of earplugs!"

"Hey, yer old lady's a cool chick, Micky. I'm glad she's gonna make you happy."

"You know Mick, once you have a kid, if you unzip it anywhere else even _once_ , she'll soak you for every penny you've got. So make sure she's what you want to be fucking for the rest of your life, ya know what I mean?"

"Hey, Monkee Man, you think this kid will come outta the womb with Groucho Marx mustache, glasses and cigar? That's what I picture when I think of your kid. Too funny!"

"Don't listen to those guys, Micky. They're just dumb fucks with no clue. You're gonna love being a dad and your wife is gonna respect you no matter what you do with your life. She's going to support your being a musician. It's in your blood. Just like being a dad. She knows you deep. That's what's important. To have a lady who knows you deep."

"Can I start a pool on how long it takes for you to get her knocked up, Mick? Hey, fellas, lay down your twenty bucks! We're taking bets on how potent our Monkee friend here is. We'll do it in weeks. Who's in?"

And so it went. No harm meant, varying points of view, some more enlightened than others. Micky's head was spinning about what it all meant and how much of it to ignore and how much to take to heart. He decided to only listen to the guys who had happy marriages or relationships and who actually _had_ kids. The rest could go to hell.

Gabby returned from Washington on Saturday, October 14. She could have come home on Friday, but she was superstitious in nature, and she knew that if she came home that night, she and Micky would make love, and she refused to begin their attempts at having a child on Friday the 13th. Micky laughed but agreed with her logic.

He picked her up from the airport and she looked exhausted. They picked up food on their way home, Micky remarking "Maybe we should hire a chef or one of us should learn how to cook." Gabby responded "A chef is out, not just because you're not making as much money as you used to, but also because I refuse to have a stranger waiting on us hand and foot. And second, I think it would be great for you to learn how to cook since you said you want to become a househusband." Micky's already pronounced chin jutted out and he said "Okay, smarty pants, maybe I will!"

They got home and Gabby dumped her bags while being inundated with kisses and wiggles and hugs from the dogs. Micky stood by and watched her try to give equal time to both, but clearly Schmooshy was her dog, her favorite, and she hoisted his now chubby body up and gave him extra love and scratchies, letting him lick her all over her face.

He crossed his arms and said "I hope you're not going to do that with our kids."

She looked puzzled "What? What am I doing? And who said we're having kids plural?"

"You're giving him more attention than Oodles, and I know we didn't talk about kids plural, but like you always say, give an inch, take a mile." He grinned broadly and moved towards the other dog to give him his fair share of attention.

"See, Micky? This is why you'll need to be around. There needs to be both of us to take care of _the_ kid. It needs both its parents."

"Yeah, well I'm not the one just coming in the door with a pile of luggage, Miss Executive Director," he teased.

"True that," Gabby conceded.

Micky hugged her and asked "Okay, why don't you grab a shower and I'll bring your bags up the stairs and then we can eat. I'll let you just shower so that the food won't get cold. I'll attend to your other needs later."

She snorted. "Hmph! Don't you mean _your_ needs?" and started stripping off her clothes as she walked to the shower.

As they were chowing down on dinner, Gabby filled Micky in on the court arguments.

"Can you imagine it? In the first hearing, here's how the other side's lawyer starts out his argument that women shouldn't be able to decide what to do with their own reproductive organs. He walks up to the podium, notices that both the lawyers arguing in favor of making abortion legal are women and says 'Mr. Chief Justice and may it please the Court. It's an old joke, but when a man argues against two beautiful ladies like this, they are going to have the last word.' ARGH!!! It's just this kind of patriarchal, pompous attitude that demonstrates exactly why we need the Court to give us our rights to do with our bodies what we see fit. But into whose hands are we putting our fates? Nine men! At least during this second hearing, a new Justice, Powell, tipped his hand that he most likely intends to vote in our favor, so that's good news. We've got women and girls endangering their lives going to these unsanitary, unregulated clinics across the border in Mexico, or totally unlicensed back alley type places here in the U.S., dying of septicemia or other side effects from botched abortions. Something's got to change. We can't wait. We are entitled to privacy over our bodies, and self-determination. No one should be forced to give birth!"

Micky listened but didn't comment. Once Gabby was on a roll, he knew better than to jump in. Plus, he was always in awe of how she marshaled her facts and arguments, and found it compelling to just listen to her make her case. He took pride in her work, whatever cause it was she was advocating. And even though she herself had just decided that she wanted to have a child, she was still dedicated to allowing all women to safely make that choice for themselves. He admired and respected her for that. He just smiled at her and nodded.

She finally stopped and said "Okay, my soap box time is up. Now I'll tell you about the rest of the trip and then you can tell me what you've been up to. I did have a little time to run around and see a few things. I went to the National Gallery and saw some beautiful art. Their impressionist paintings reminded me of our honeymoon, when we went to see the _Musée d'Orsay_. I found out about some groovy museums that you'd like that I didn't have time for, so we should put D.C. on our bucket lists. There's a Natural History museum with all sorts of cool science and nature stuff, and there's an Air and Space Museum. So maybe if you end up on tour in that city, I'll come fly out and we'll go see those places together. Okay, tell me what you've been up to."

Micky tilted his head as if to recall. "Well, not much to speak of. I got lots of advice and razzing from the guys at the softball debauchery session. Some of them were really nice, but most of them had awful things to say about parenthood and wives. But the guys who said good things were the ones who seemed to actually know what they were talking about, so they told me to ignore the other guys."

Gabby smiled. "Sounds sensible. I'm glad you have a few friends who don't have rocks in their heads. I won't make you name names."

"Yeah, it's not allowed. Guy code and all." Micky grinned and stuck out his tongue, mocking Gabby's vaunted girl code she always cited.

"What else?"

"Well, I had a good look around this place and realized it's completely dangerous for a baby or a kid, so I started looking at how we store stuff and decided to build some cabinets and put doors on things. That will give me something to do out in my woodworking shop."

"Good, good, just don't get too far ahead of yourself, Micky. We haven't even fucked yet, remember? This baby isn't going to come next Tuesday like something you order from a catalog."

"I know that, Gabby," Micky fumed playfully. "I'm just thinking ahead."

"So what else?"

"I also had a meeting with Davy and the other guys, and we hired a booking agent to find venues for us to tour once we get ready to go on the road. We also need to pick songs and record an album, then we'll set up press avails and go on talk shows and stuff. And we may have a shot at doing a network special, too. We got a nibble for one, provided we're willing to do some skits and stuff between the songs. Kind of like a variety show. And the best part is that I get to produce and direct it!"

"That sounds fantastic, Micky, and like a ton of work!"

"Yeah, it's gonna be hard work, but I think it will be a blast. It was really good to be spending time with Davy, too. I've missed him."

"How are he and Jan? Still living in separate pads?"

"Yep. It's strange that they're still moving at a snail's pace.

"I don't think so. She's doing what I did. She's taking it slow. If you can understand why I was hesitant to commit to you, an amateur groupie groper, you have to be able to understand why she's got issues with commitment with someone like Davy. He's got plenty of growing up to do still."

"Yeah, I guess so. So."

Gabby looked at Micky levelly.

"So?" she asked.

Micky got a mischievous look on his face.

"You wanna make a baby?" he countered.

Gabby smiled shyly. "Wow, that sounds so far out there. Yeah, I'm game. Where?"

Micky thought about it. "Let's be really square and go to the bedroom. Just in case it happens the first time. Then we can tell the kid that it was conceived in the most conventional way."

Gabby raised an eyebrow. "Does that mean vanilla sex?"

Micky responded "Yeah, I guess it does. Like Ward and June Cleaver missionary. No swinging from the chandeliers."

Gabby sat back and crossed her arms. "Okay, this is NOT going to fly, Micky. I'm not giving up my wild, fantasy sex life for this kid. It's bad enough what I'm going to have to sacrifice once it arrives. But I'm going to live it up while I can. So there had better be plenty of swinging from the chandeliers and plenty of tutti frutti while we're trying to get pregnant. And there had better be plenty of pregnancy sex once we _are_ pregnant. You get me?"

Micky smiled a wicked, lascivious grin. "In that case, wanna go put on the Combat Zone underwear? I haven't seen it since we were in Boston."

Gabby stood up and said "That can be arranged. You pour the wine and meet me upstairs. We can do it in the bedroom, but not necessarily in the bed, or at least not both of us."

Micky was following her train of thought. "Mhmmm, I see where you're going with that. Okay. Get up there. I'll see you in a minute."

Over the next couple months, Gabby set the tone for the getting pregnant sex standards and they kept upping the ante. Accustomed to creating fantasies and role playing for each other, Micky started bringing home sexy lingerie and nighties for her to wear and for him to remove from her, and Gabby asked for and contributed to elaborate storylines that extended their foreplay and made their lovemaking anything but utilitarian and just about making a baby. They were having more sex than ever and it was more exciting than ever, and they only had to look at each other and break into flames. Micky would sneak up behind Gabby as she was doing something routine, like putting laundry into the washing machine, and begin fingering her and ask her if she wanted some attention. Gabby had developed the habit of running her hand over his thigh or package as she'd brush by him on the way to the kitchen, or she'd hover behind him and nibble his ear and he'd have her down on his lap and into a mad makeout session before she knew what was happening. They were like horny teenagers and fucking like rabbits. It was exciting, joyous and a hell of a lot of fun.

Finally, the day came for Micky to leave for his tour. They spent the night before making love for hours. Even when Micky was completely out of bullets, he wouldn't let Gabby go, continuing to give her multiple orgasms that echoed for minutes at a time. She was wild with passion and half mad with stimulation. She almost wanted him to leave just so that she could regain her sanity.

It was late January, so Micky and the guys followed the good weather and set out for Florida to perform at a few outdoor venues.

They would stay in the South while the winter weather lasted, then hit other parts of the country as spring arrived. On January 22, 1973, Micky made his usual nightly call to Gabby, but this time it was to a hotel in Washington, D.C. She was back in that city to hear the verdict in the _Roe v. Wade_ abortion rights case. Gabby was giddy with jubilation and relief as she greeted Micky. She explained that the Court had ruled in the Plaintiff's favor, finding a right to privacy and that there was no fetal right to life. The Court did find that as the pregnancy entered the third trimester at the point of viability, the state did have a compelling interest and could regulate abortion, but it could not ban it and had to allow abortions that protected the life or health of the mother.

"Micky! It's pandemonium here! We won our freedom! It's like our own emancipation proclamation! I'm so happy! So many lives will be saved, so many lives won't be ruined, so many children will be born when their mothers can afford to take care of them and not into poverty and disadvantage and discrimination and brutality. And women who are victims of brutality won't have to carry to term the product of that violence. And babies who would be born with devastating birth defects and have lives with no quality won't suffer that fate. The world is changing and I was right there to witness it! I'm so honored and proud to have had a small part in it!"

Micky just listened and grinned, as usual enjoying hearing his woman revel in her power and glory.

"I'm so proud of you, babe. Sounds like you're getting ready to go out and party. Should I let you go?"

"Yeah, but not before I hear about your day."

"Well, we were at a botanical garden in Orlando and a bird got loose and shat on Davy's head. It was hilarious. He didn't think so, obviously. And he liked it even less when I stopped the number we were doing and joked that that means good luck."

They both had a good giggle about that one. They chatted a bit more and then Micky asked what Gabby's plans were and when she'd be home.

"I'll be back in two more days. How about you?"

"I'll be home next Tuesday. We have another weekend show in Florida and some press to do between now and then so it doesn't pay to fly home. I can fly home during the next week and we can work on making a baby. I'm trying to do only weekend shows. It makes sense to do it that way for now until summer anyway. And of course Spring Break season in April we'll be out probably that whole month just to make sure we catch everyone. So that's what we have lined up for now."

Gabby sighed. "Okay. Glad to hear you're busy and still having fun, but of course I miss you. I guess I'll have to fire up Mr. Sparky for a while." That was the nickname she had given her electronic lover, her vibrator.

"Don't do anything too crazy with that thing in case you're already pregnant, Gabby. I don't want you to be the first woman in existence to electrocute her fetus."

"Oh, brother, Micky. I'm going to bring home a copy of the _Roe v. Wade_ decision and you can read all about the development of a fetus and get your ignorant self educated about how babies are formed. If I were pregnant today it would be a collection of a few cells that would take up a tiny space on a medical slide for goodness sake!"

"Okay, okay. Whatever. Just be careful. And leave some sexual tension built up for me. I don't want you so satisfied that you're not in the mood for me when I get home. I want you good and primed for some of what I have on offer."

"Okay, Micky, I won't do any self-loving. I'll save it all for you. But you had better be ready for what's coming at you when you walk through that door!"

Micky growled deep in his throat through the phone and said "You just gave me an instant hard-on."

Gabby gasped and said "Well, what's good for me goes for you, too. No spilling of any seed for you either. Every sperm is a potential baby. You best be saving all the best ones for me. So keep your hands to yourself, Papa D. Deal?"

"Okay, deal."

"Can't wait to see you, Micky."

"Me, too."

"This is fun, trying to make a new life with you, Mickster. I didn't think about how fun it would be."

"Me neither. I just thought about how neat it would be to be a dad. This is an unexpected perk."

"Glad I could make your life happy. You make me very happy."

"You are and always will be my everything, Gabby, and you make me happy always."

"'Night, my Micky."

"Go party but take it easy on the drinking and get some decent sleep."

"Yes, Dad."

Gabby hung up the phone and laughed to herself. She sat for a moment and thought back to the conversation she and the other girls had with Dawn when Dawn was trying to conceive and wasn't having any luck. She and Micky had been trying for only three months, but it felt odd that she had been flying without a safety net and hadn't gotten pregnant yet. All those times in her life when she feared getting knocked up, feared the consequences of such an unwanted, life-altering calamity, and now here she was welcoming those little life-making swimmers into her cervix and nothing was happening. It made today's court decision even more poignant and important. The difference between a life ruined and a life's dream fulfilled was one wrong move, one sperm going where it oughtn't to, and the odds were tough enough without the law being stacked against a woman as well.


	22. Chapter 22

Summer had rolled into town, and with it, the guys had a more flexible schedule. They could pick which part of the country they wanted to go, since it was warm virtually everywhere, and the amusement parks and other similar venues were packed every day, not just on weekends. So Micky was able to be home more often and the baby making activities were more frequent and hopefully raising the odds.

In the meantime, the Monkees family convened to celebrate another milestone. Lord and Lady Nesmith finally decided to make it official. Just to be a pain in the ass, they planned a destination wedding on a weekend so Davy and Micky had to forego a weekend gig in high season. They at least made it early in the month of June and set the wedding date for June 2, the location being Texas, where all of Mike's family lived. Gabby was secretly laughing up her sleeve, knowing that this was not Wendy's idea of an ideal wedding location, but since Mike's family was huge and Wendy's family was minuscule, the choice was obvious and Mike put his foot down and insisted.

Since Gabby had set aside any simmering tensions and asked Wendy to be her maid of honor when she got married, Wendy begrudgingly (presumably) did the same and asked Gabby to stand up for her as matron of honor. The rest of the wedding party consisted of the Monkees family males and females. Mike's best man was Peter, a surprising choice, but presumably he felt a close bond to him because of their love and talent for music, or maybe it was because Peter had a child and he thought that would make a good impression on his relatives. It wasn't at all clear. But Peter was thrilled to be given such an honor and he took his duties seriously, organizing a bachelor party for Mike and writing a speech for the reception that he cleared with Micky to make sure it conformed to standards for such occasions, since he had no idea what was required for such shindigs.

Unlike Gabby, Wendy insisted that Mike endure the full-on Jewish wedding ceremony, even though there wasn't a rabbi in all of Texas willing to marry them. She found a justice of the peace to read the ceremony and made Mike substitute a _yarmulke_ for his usual wool hat. At the reception, the wedding guests danced the _hora_ , a traditional Jewish circle dance where everyone surrounds the bride and groom and dances around them, then hoists them up on chairs and parades them around while they're linked by a white handkerchief, then they end the dance in the middle of the circle. It took all of the Monkees plus Robert to lift Mike up, with his stork-like legs dangling down, and after they trooped him around and almost dropped him once or twice, he looked like he was going to lose his dinner. Wendy was pissed, thinking they had done it on purpose. When the dance was over, everyone shouted _l'chaim_ , which is a Hebrew toast meaning "to life!" and then the party continued on, with Mike taking a detour to the men's room to recover while Wendy chewed out the guys for trying to sabotage her wedding. Micky could barely keep a straight face and Davy was digging his fingernails into his palms to keep from bursting out laughing.

Gabby took Wendy aside, trying to calm her down and divert her mind from the hijinks over the chair dance, and asked her where they were going for their honeymoon.

"Well, we're going to give Europe the once over. I've always wanted to go, and we didn't really get to see it properly when we were there for Monkees business. We were there working hard."

Gabby nodded sagely, trying to appear respectful of the hard work that Wendy did to keep the guys' careers humming along. "Yes, you did a lot of the behind-the-scenes stuff that was unsung hero type stuff and I'm sure nobody will ever really know the extent of it. I'm glad you'll be able to go back and see what you missed."

Wendy seemed genuinely touched at Gabby's conciliatory and respectful acknowledgement of her role in making the Monkees a success. "Hey, I was just doing my job. It was a lot of fun even as it was hard work. I hear you're doing a ton of work and great things now yourself. I want to hear all about it. Maybe when we get back from our trip, we can have lunch or something."

Gabby smiled and said "Sure, my phone number's still the same. Call me anytime."

Wendy gave a tentative, thin-lipped smile and said "I'll do that. Thanks for stepping up and being my matron of honor, Gabby."

Gabby found this rather pathetic and so far from where she imagined they would have been even a couple of years ago, it depressed her. "Sure, Wendy. I was always going to be yours and you were always going to be mine. Remember how we used to talk about it when we were growing up? Who'da thunk we'd both end up marrying rock stars, though?"

Wendy couldn't resist getting in a dig. "Well, I'm marrying a rock star. You married a Monkee who's now not a rock star anymore."

Gabby sighed with frustration and said "Yeah, that's right, Wendy. As usual, you've summed up the situation exactly as you see it. It's a real eye opener to see the world through your eyes. Well, I'd better go find my has-been husband." She ambled away in search of Micky, leaving the bride standing by herself.

When she got to Micky, he was sitting at a table with all the guys, including Mike, who by now had rebounded from his adventure atop the chair.

Gabby came up behind him and put her hand on Mike's shoulder. "How are you feeling now, Mike? Okay? I'm sorry you had to go through that. I felt like I ought to spare Micky that, so we didn't have the _hora_ at our wedding."

Mike said "Yeah, good call on that one, Gabby. I'm okay now, but don't go in that bathroom over there. It don't smell too good. I left the contents of my stomach in there." He guffawed and downed a very dark drink, probably whiskey.

Micky looked at him dubiously and said "Hey, Mike, if you've got an empty tummy, maybe you ought to go easy on the booze, or let me go get you something to eat to go with that hooch."

Mike said "Nah, I'm okay. I hear you had some trouble with booze, Micky. You okay now?"

Micky froze and began to blush furiously. Gabby moved behind Micky and spoke for him.

"Micky's doing great, Mike. He hasn't got a problem with booze. Who told you that?"

Mike had a glass in his hand and gesticulated with it in Wendy's direction, spilling some of it. Slurring his words he said "Ahh, you know who, the lil' woman. She's allllwaaaaays the font of information. She's got her nose to the ground, sniffin' out everyone's biznessss."

Gabby's brows made a V and her eyes turned steely. "Well, Wendy's mistaken. Micky hasn't got a drinking problem, he had a depression problem after his whole life got turned upside down, and he got some treatment for it and now he's doing great. So don't believe everything you hear from the lil' woman. She's a championship shit-stirrer, and you should know that well enough by now."

Mike looked bewildered, as if he knew he had said the wrong thing but he couldn't figure out what it was. He decided to just plead ignorance and throw all the blame on Wendy. "I'm sorry, Gabby. I dint know nuthin' about it. I shouldn'ta said nuthin' 'bout it. I was talkin' outta mah ass. No offense there, Mick."

Micky shrugged his shoulders and looked away.

Davy couldn't help taking up the cudgels on Micky's behalf. "So, Mike, how are your record sales going? I see the albums aren't charting that well, but that doesn't always tell the full story."

Mike frowned and admitted "Yeah, well, the sales are about as anemic as the chart performance. I think I'm jusss a bit ahead of mah time. The world ain't ready for country rock. Someday it will be, but not now."

Micky rallied and showed himself to be the better man. "You were always a visionary, Mike, and you always will be. One day you'll be recognized for your vision. Just keep on making your music and let the crowds follow. I think your records are great. I've got 'em all."

Mike smiled a dopy, drunk grin and patted Micky on the shoulder. "Mick, you always have been a great guy and a great friend. And you're a great musician. Don't listen to the lil' woman. Frankly, I think she's got a hair across her ass about somethin' that has nuthin' to do with your music. It's somethin' between her and Gabby and I can't figure out what it is, but don't take it personally. She's just a lil' girl in a woman's body. Thasss why I gotta look after her. She needs someone to look after her." He nodded his head like he had discovered the wisdom of the ages, polished off the rest of his drink, rose and went in search of his bride.

As he walked off, the girls came to the table in pursuit of Gabby. Dawn squealed "Wendy's going to throw her bouquet now, and she says us old married broads get to be part of the fun since she doesn't want any of Mike's ugly single girl relatives to catch her bouquet." Dawn was waddling like one of the walruses at Marineland because she was pregnant with her and Peter's second child and about to pop any day now. Gabby thought it was the ultimate act of friendship for her to have even come to the wedding, considering how bitchy Wendy had gotten over the years.

Gabby winced. "Charming, I'm sure."

Jan and Lynda giggled and Lynda observed "Well, I don't know who's going to be lunging away from it faster, me or Jan!"

Robert and Davy both had surprised looks on their faces, but neither of them seemed discontent at the notion that their girlfriends weren't anxious to catch the bouquet and benefit from the superstition that the one who catches it is the next one to get married.

Then Jan spoke up and said something that startled everyone.

"I'm ready to catch that bunch of flowers." She fixed her eyes with purpose and meaning on Davy and stared at him seriously for a moment, then walked away with the other girls. All the color drained from Davy's face and he grabbed hold of his drink with a shaky hand. He downed his whisky in one sip and got up to get a refill. The guys all exchanged looks of comprehension and dread. Off in the distance, there were screams of delight and cheering. When the girls returned to the table, Jan was triumphantly carrying the bouquet. Davy downed his glass quickly again and was about to go get another one when Jan sat down on his lap and kissed him deeply and whispered something in his ear. When she was done, he asked Peter to go refill his glass for him.

The band played on into the night, and everyone was having a great time dancing. The Monkees family hadn't seen each other in the same room for a long time, so they were swapping partners and taking the opportunity to catch up with each other. Davy asked Gabby for a dance to a slower number and led her politely and delicately at first in a waltz-type dance, but eventually he pulled her close to him and just held her to his body and went still, breathing in syncopation with her.

She didn't know what or whether to say anything, so she just let him hold her. He was clearly very drunk and had something on his mind, though she didn't know what. She sort of hoped he'd finally just spill it and clear the years-long tension between them, but he didn't. He just held her and breathed her presence in. He didn't move his hands anywhere inappropriate, or really at all, though she could tell that he was using the pads of his fingers to really feel her presence, to remind his conscious mind every second that he had her in his arms and to appreciate every second of it. But aside from that, nothing untoward was obvious. From the outside, he was just politely dancing with one of his best mate's wives in a very civilized, non-emotional way. But Gabby knew better. Gabby had the gift of empathy, and she could read Davy's emotions through the tips of his finger pads. Something was going on with him. He was deriving something from holding her that was more than just a lightly pleasant sensation. She wasn't sure if it was sexual or deep affection, but it was something. But she just let it happen. She didn't know what else to do because she couldn't define it, and without having a read on it, she couldn't address it without possibly causing a rift in their friendship. And so the moment passed. When the song was over, he thanked her for the dance and led her back over to Micky, kissing her hand before placing it back in Micky's.

On the next dance, Lynda asked Davy to dance with her. It was another slow dance and this time it was she who slowed things down so that she could whisper in his ear.

"What are you playing at, Davy?"

"Wha? Wot you mean, Lynda?"

Lynda pulled back and gave Davy one of her stern glances that always reduced him to his fourteen-year-old self. "You know what I mean. That was some dance you just had with Gabby. You were in seventh heaven. You think she's not going to figure out what's going on?"

"First of all, Lynda, I didn't do one thing that was inappropriate, so unless she's a bloody mind reader, she cahn't know anything, and second of all, what makes you think I'm still carrying a torch for her anyway?"

Lynda snorted contemptuously. "Because if you weren't still in love with her, you'd have made an honest woman of Jan by now, wouldn't you?"

"Hey, she's just as commitment shy as I am! She's been dragging her feet to the altar just as much."

"Well the fat's in the fire now, Davy, because she told me when we were lining up for the bouquet toss that she hoped she'd catch it because she's ready to settle down with you. And she _did_ catch it."

Davy groaned. "I know, she came marching right over to me to show me, then she whispered in me ear that fate has sealed the deal, or some sort of guff like that. As if I'm going to plan me life around some bloody bunch of flowers!"

"And then the first chance you get you go running to Gabby for a good going over for the first time in years? That can't be a coincidence, Davy. Even if you didn't consciously do it, your subconscious mind is still acting like a homing pigeon. You're still hung up on her."

Davy cringed and closed his eyes. "'Ow can that be, after all these years, and 'er being married? It cahn't be right and it cahn't be possible. I have Jan and I love Jan."

"That's right Davy, so keep telling yourself that and stick with what you've got. Jan's a great girl and she's going to make you happy. Don't blow it." Lynda paused and a look of compassion came into her face now. She put her hand on his arm. "But Davy, if you _are_ still hung up on Gabby, _please_ don't marry Jan. Don't hurt her like that. She doesn't deserve it. Whomever you're with deserves to have all of you."

Davy nodded and said "You're right. I understand and I agree."


	23. Chapter 23

Summer flew by quickly and by autumn, in addition to various amusement parks, Davy and Micky performed with Tommy and Bobby at fall fairs, like Oktoberfests and Pumpkinfests, Wool and Sheep festivals and County Fairs. 

After this final run of outdoor performances, they went into the studio to record the album, then for rehearsals for their television special, the culmination of the project, which would hopefully draw good ratings after having primed the pump with all of the audience building they'd done across the country over the last year or so. The album would be released simultaneously with the special. The results were surprisingly positive. The ratings for the TV show were respectable, and the album, though it didn't chart, sold a decent amount of units. 

***********************************************************************************************

Links for the TV Special won't upload -- view them at:

https://youtu.be/vwvlhjjPsuo - Part 1 

https://youtu.be/2AnQnkG4FII - Part 2

***********************************************************************************************

In the meantime, another one of Micky's fishing lines started to get some nibbles. He began to be offered acting roles again, including some voice work on television shows. One of the roles he was cast in was a very odd career choice, in Gabby's opinion, and she had grave misgivings about it, not just from a reputational standpoint, but from the crowd he'd be hanging around. He accepted a role in a movie called _Linda Lovelace For President_ , which was meant to be a campy comedy starring the porn star who made her reputation starring in the infamous X-rated pornography movie _Deep Throat_. 

The new movie would be released in X, R-rated and PG versions. The R-rated version would still be racy enough to gratify those who wanted to see the real Linda, while giving her enough of a tissue of respectability to perhaps enable her to move on from her notorious past and establish a legitimate acting career. Gabby was actually in favor of Lovelace's attempt to break free of her pornography prison and make more empowering career choices, but she worried that the people surrounding her who had coerced her into the pornography business in the first place would be a bad influence on Micky as well and create a toxic atmosphere that certainly would not benefit someone with as fragile a psyche as he possessed. Still, as Micky put it, a job is a job, so she went along with it despite her misgivings. The film was being shot in Kansas, presumably for both budgetary reasons and to get away from the harsh spotlight of Hollywood. So in January of 1974, he left for Kansas.

Gabby knew something was wrong almost from the get-go. Micky wasn't making his nightly check-in calls. At first, his excuse was that he was having a hard time adjusting to the primitive working conditions out in the middle of nowhere. Then it was that he was finding it difficult getting back into the swing of acting, since it had been a while between movies. Next it was that he needed to bond with his cast mates and they all liked to go out at night and you know, the time difference was so confusing that by the time it occurred to him to call Gabby, she'd already be asleep, which was bullshit because he knew Gabby was a night owl and often stayed up late reading, not to mention she lived in an earlier time zone. He'd been gone three weeks and they'd only talked a handful of times.

Then the pictures hit the gossip rags. Word hit the street that notorious porn star Linda Lovelace was making another movie, and every tabloid sent someone out to the flat prairies of Kansas to see what kind of dirt they could dig up on the production. While Linda was the main target of interest, if they just so happened to catch a very married, famous ex-superstar rock 'n roller carrying on with a groupie/movie extra/local Kansan from the college where the movie was being filmed, well, that was just fine, too.

The final stake through the heart was, unfortunately, administered by Wendy, who called Gabby to alert her to the presence of the story in a tabloid she had seen at the grocery store featuring a story about Micky engaging in hanky panky with a local college cutie from the University of Kansas, where the movie was filming. Some of the photos were of a drunken Micky partying with Linda who was wearing a sheer blouse with nothing on underneath it, along with one of his fellow Hollywood Vampires. 

Then there were several grainy photos of Micky and a girl at various spots around town, including the diner, a bar, and the lobby of a motel. There was a clear photo of Micky trying to shield his face from the camera with the girl trailing behind him with her head down, trying not to get photographed, and another photo of them in a car driving away. It was almost as if someone had hired a private detective to track him to build a case for Gabby to serve him with divorce papers. All she'd have to do is attach a copy of the tabloid with her petition.

Micky tried to brazen it out and act like he didn't know the story had been published. Or maybe he truly didn't know. Maybe they didn't have grocery stores in Kansas, Gabby thought with a touch of black humor, or maybe Micky never went into grocery stores when he was on location. In any case, she decided to play possum until Micky either broke and 'fessed up, or he slipped up and got caught in his own trap. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of chewing him out over the phone. That would be letting him off the hook way too lightly.

So they continued to talk, though not nightly anymore. That agreement seemed to have melted away as if it had never existed. Now Micky only called when he felt like it, or when it was convenient for him, and he expected Gabby not to question it anymore. Or rather, he hoped she wouldn't. So now, she decided to give him exactly what he wanted. She gave him a heaping helping of total apathy. When he called her, he'd make his usual excuses for why he didn't call, then wait for her to ream him out, but now she'd just say, "Whatever. Doesn't matter." And then she'd just wait for him to initiate the conversation. She took passive aggressive tactics to exquisitely extreme levels. She was furious and she was going to punish him in a way that didn't leave a physical mark on him, so that he would have to trace his discomfort back to his own shortcomings.

Typical phone conversations now tended to go like this:

Micky: "Hey, babe. Sorry I didn't call you last night. It was another late night with the crew. Some re-shoots. You know how it is."

Gabby: "Whatever. Doesn't matter."

Silence on Gabby's end of the phone.

Micky waits, then finally says something like "So, how's it going in California?"

Gabby: "It's still here. Same as when you left."

Micky: "Oh. That's good. So, anything new at work?"

Gabby: "Not much. Just doing my best to do what's right and live with integrity."

Micky: "Yeah, that's important. You go get 'em, babe."

Gabby: Silence.

Micky: "How are the dogs?"

Gabby: "They're fine. They're getting used to it just being me. They like sleeping on your side of the bed, so they don't really miss you much."

Micky: "That's not nice."

Gabby: "Yeah, I know. It's horrible when someone lets distance and time erase the love and affection they feel for a person in their lives."

Micky: "Hmmm. Yeah. Well, I guess I ought to go. Early call for tomorrow."

Gabby: "Right."

Micky: "'Night, my Gabby."

Gabby: "Bye."

After a couple more conversations like this, Micky stopped calling altogether. It had been three nights since she had heard from him. This fourth night, her phone rang and it was a male's voice, but it wasn't Micky. It was Peter.

"Peter? Hey, what's up? Is everything okay?"

Peter started to cry. "No, Gabby, everything is _not_ okay. Can I come over there tomorrow?"

"Well, Peter, I have to go in to the office, but I could go in late if you really need to talk. Can you come over early in the morning?"

"Well, no, I can't do that and leave Dawn with the kids all alone first thing. I tell you what, I'll drop by your office at some point during the day once Charlotte's down for her nap, but I'll call you first to make sure it's okay with you. Can I do that? I _really_ need to speak with you."

"Okay, Pete. That's fine. And don't worry. Whatever it is, we'll find a way to make it better."

"Thanks, Gabby. You're a pal."

She put the phone down and was very shaken. She hadn't been in touch much with Dawn since she gave birth a couple of months ago. She was surprised that there hadn't been a christening yet and that she hadn't been invited over to meet the baby yet either. It was all so different than with their first child. She had figured that it must just be much harder to have two kids than one and didn't think much more about it than that. She sent up a prayer for their family and turned off the lights, knowing that her phone wouldn't be ringing again now, and went to sleep.

Around 2:00 p.m. the next day, she got a call from Peter saying he could be at her office within a half hour and asking could he please come over now. She encouraged him to come right away and said he could have all the time he needed. She checked her calendar and told her assistant what needed to be done for the rest of the day in case Peter needed her to take the afternoon off, then she awaited his arrival.

Peter came in to the Los Angeles Headquarters of the National Organization for Women as if he were entering hallowed ground. He was in awe of the work the women there did, and just a little bit intimidated by the warrior women who did it. He waited quietly in the reception area with his legs primly crossed at the ankles while the receptionist called Gabby's office to let her know that she had a visitor.

Gabby came out and hugged Peter warmly, then led him back to her office, stopping at the kitchen to offer Peter a cup of tea or coffee. He accepted a cup of chamomile tea, which Gabby felt was advisable to calm him. She squeezed some lemon in it to perk up his senses so he'd feel equal to the task of telling him whatever it was that was burdening his heart.

She gestured to the couch in her office and she sat down on an easy chair next to it. "Have a seat, Peter. What's going on? Tell me all about it."

"Oh, Gabby, it's just awful. Things have gone so horribly wrong and I don't know how to fix it or stop the hurt. My beautiful sunshine girl has gone all cloudy and grey."

"Dawn? What's wrong with Dawn?"

Peter's eyes filled with tears and he shrugged his shoulders, his expression full of despair and bewilderment. "I just don't have any idea. But she just lies around the house and has no energy or interest in life. Not even in the baby."

"You know, I don't think you guys even sent out announcements because I have no idea what you named it and I don't even know the gender. That should have been the tipoff that something's wrong!"

"I'm sorry, Gabby. We have a son. A beautiful baby boy named Sebastian. It was a difficult birth and Dawn had to have an emergency caesarean section, and there wasn't time to warn anybody about it, and then when the baby came, Dawn took a long time to recover. And then after that, she just changed so drastically that I haven't had the time or energy to focus and let people know about the baby."

Gabby frowned with puzzlement. "What do you mean she's changed?"

"I mean she's not my Dawn. It's like some other person's living inside her. She's this listless person who just walks around like a zombie. She doesn't care about anything. She doesn't even want to pick up the baby or tend to him, and she even ignores Charlotte. She's just in her own spacey world. And it's not like she's off gallivanting and kicking up her heels when she's ignoring the kids. I wish that were it. No. She's absolutely miserable. She barely takes care of herself either. She doesn't wash or hardly eat and she just sits and stares off into space. I can hardly get a word out of her, and almost the only sounds she makes are when she's crying."

"Whoa, Peter, it sounds like Dawn's fallen into some sort of depression. You know, this may not seem like it's good news, what I'm going to tell you, but this is more common than you realize. It's called postpartum depression. Fortunately, it usually passes, and it can be treated with therapy or drugs if necessary. Do you want me to contact my therapist and get a referral for Dawn?"

"Well, I don't know how Dawn will feel about that, me going behind her back like this. Could you come over and talk to her about it first?"

"Of course, I'd be happy to. Want me to come over now? I'm not too busy today."

Peter sighed with relief. "That would be fantastic, Gabby. I'd appreciate that so much."

"Okay, Pete. Just wait here while I tie up some loose ends. And drink up that tea. It's good for you."

Peter waited and Gabby had a word with her assistant, made some calls and then packed up her briefcase. She put her hand on Peter's shoulder to let him know she was ready to go, when she noticed he had dozed off. He awoke with a start. She realized he had probably been getting very little sleep, probably picking up Dawn's slack with the baby as much as he could. Her heart bled for both of them.

"Ready to go, Pete?"

"Yeah, you should follow me in your car. I'll see you at the house."

When they reached Pete's house, there was the sound of pandemonium emanating from inside. One little set of lungs was screaming to beat the band, and a more developed pair of lungs was berating her mommy for not letting her have brown bear sit with her in her booster chair while she had her snack.

Gabby came in and stretched her arms out to everyone – Dawn, Charlotte and Sebastian – giving hugs and kisses wherever she could land them. Dawn barely registered that someone new had entered the room at first, then finally noticed when Gabby put her hand firmly on Dawn's shoulder and said "Dawn, I'm here, it's me, Gabby."

Dawn turned her head to look at her friend and looked shell-shocked, as if she had been through a terrible battle and was just trying to keep body and soul together. Gabby asked gently "Can I hold the baby, Dawn?" Dawn just nodded mutely.

Gabby scooped up Sebastian and cooed and rocked him, while patting his back. He had just been fed and Dawn was now able to pull her shirt down and readjust her breasts with some dignity with both hands. Within seconds of taking possession of the baby, a giant burp emanated from him, and everyone got a good laugh out of that.

Now Gabby walked over to Charlotte and asked "Whatcha eating, Charlotte?" Charlotte had a tray full of various odds and ends strewn about, and she began to enumerate each item. While Gabby chatted with Charlotte, Peter guided Dawn out of the room, presumably to explain to her why Gabby was there and to let Dawn have some time to freshen up.

A half hour later, Dawn came back to the kitchen with wet hair and clean clothes on. She had had her first shower in several days, Peter whispered to Gabby, and was now feeling semi-human again. Peter told Charlotte it was time for her late afternoon nap and offered to read her a story to help her get settled down. They went to her room and Dawn and Gabby sat facing each other, Gabby still cradling the baby in her arms.

Dawn smiled wanly at Gabby and said "Thanks for giving me a chance to take a timeout and hop in the shower. That felt good. I really needed that."

"Sure, Dawn, no problem. I've been looking forward to meeting the baby, and been dying to see you as well. Pete told me you've been having a rough go of it. I wish you'd have let me know sooner. I'd have been over here in a flash."

Dawn shrugged her shoulders and shook her head from side to side. "Nah, you're a busy career woman, you don't want to be coming over here after a long day at the office to get up to your armpits in baby mess and dirty laundry and all that jazz. That's why you don't have kids, isn't it? So you don't have to deal with all of this?"

Gabby smiled patiently and said "You've got it all wrong, friend. Micky and I have been trying for a baby for over a year."

Dawn jerked her head back and cried "Whoa! I didn't know that! Wow, I'm really out of the loop. I'm so sorry I said what I did. That was really uncool of me. So, you're finally going for it? You want kids?"

It was Gabby's turn to shrug. "It's not so much that I want kids as I want to have a family with Micky. He wants to be a dad and I want him to be as happy as he can be. I want him to have his heart's desire."

Dawn inspected Gabby's face as if she were doing a psych exam on a mental patient. "And you think that's a good enough reason to have a baby? Girl, let me tell you, when the shit hits the fan, you're going to wish you had stayed true to your selfish impulses and gotten your tubes tied instead."

Gabby gasped. "Is that what you're wishing now, Dawn?"

Dawn sighed and said "I don't know. I mean, not really. I always wanted to be a mother and now I am one. I have two beautiful, healthy children. I have nothing to complain about. So why aren't I happy, Gabby? Why am I so damned miserable? Is it the kids making me miserable? It must be. They're the only new thing in my life. Before them I was happy."

"Yeah, but you were happy when you had Charlotte."

Dawn looked horrified. "So you think it's just Sebastian making me unhappy? You think I just hate him, wish I hadn't had him?"

"No, Dawn, no! That's not what I'm saying." Gabby quickly retreated. "What I'm saying is, I think giving birth to Sebastian was traumatic for you and it triggered something in you and you're suffering for it. I think maybe you're going through some sort of emotional upheaval, maybe even some sort of clinical depression. I mean, when you had that caesarean operation, they ripped you open. That was a really violent way to give birth. And then you had to bounce right back and instead of taking care of one child, you had two to take care of. And on top of that, you were still healing from major surgery and trying to take care of two children. That's like getting hit by a car and trying to run the marathon the next day. I mean, that's got to mess you up. So you got behind with your sleep and your body got run down, and then you can't do self-care as well with two kids and you start feeling like shit. After a while, that takes its toll. It all adds up to a lot of pressure and no release valve. I think you have every right to feel like shit!"

Dawn closed her eyes and a tear slipped out of each one. "You know, I never even put two and two together and thought of any of that, Gabby. But what you're saying makes perfect sense. I mean, wow, it really does. But what can I do about it? I'm in such a deep trench of woe. I feel like I can't even see the top because the sides are so deep."

Gabby took a big breath and blew it out. She was on a mission and decided that this was a chance for her to get her head out of her ass and focus on someone else's problems instead of her own.

"Okay, Dawn, I'm going to suggest something really radical, but I think it might be helpful. I want you to agree to see a therapist. I can have my therapist recommend someone to you."

"But I don't have time – " Dawn began, but Gabby cut her off.

"And don't give me that crap about not having time. Let me finish. I'm going to move in here with you and help you out and take care of you and help you with the kids until you can get back on your feet a little better. You need some support. How come you didn't hire a nanny?"

Dawn looked shamefaced but was determined to hold nothing back. "I wouldn't let Peter get one. He's got to conserve his Monkees money. God knows when he's going to find another job, and I can't work. We can't be throwing money away on household help."

Gabby didn't argue with her. It was a reasonable, prudent position to take, and this situation might still have arisen even with a nanny on duty. "Okay, I understand that and I don't disagree with your reasoning. But now you have me here to help. I'm here and I'm going to stand by you, Dawn, if you'll let me. Okay?"

Dawn nodded gratefully. "Yes, please, Gabby. Please do help me. You can camp out in any of the ridiculous amount of extra bedrooms this house has. And we can of course have Micky stay here when he gets back."

Gabby crossed her arms and said "Yeah, well, hmmm, that probably won't be necessary."

Dawn's expression changed from bewilderment to fear and dread.

"What's happened between you two, Gabby? Did you have a fight?"

Shaking her head in the negative, Gabby responded "Nope, we didn't have a fight, Micky doesn't have the _cajones_ to fight me for our relationship. No, our good friend Lady Nesmith called my attention to a supermarket tabloid that published a big splashy spread about an affair Micky had with a groupie on the set of this new movie he's making out on location in Kansas. He either thinks I'm too dumb and clueless to have figured out what he's up to, or he's too chicken shit to come clean with me. So our telephone conversations, when he deigns to call me, are very polite and meaningless. I've pretty much had it with him and his lies by omission and his being a pussy about it on the phone. So let him call an empty house and wonder where I am, and when he comes home, let him live in that nice big house on his own and wonder where I am. I'm not going to tell him. Okay if I just move in here with you guys for a while, until I figure out what my next move is?"

"Yeah, it's okay with me, though I guess I ought to ask Pete just for the sake of form."

"Sure, of course. Go ahead. Also, I've got to bring the dogs with me. We're a package deal, at least until Micky comes back and we work out a custody agreement. Is that going to be a problem?"

"No, not at all. It will be good for the kids to be around animals. And I've heard that pets can be very therapeutic."

"Great. Now you go talk to Peter and firm up the details, then tell me it's okay and I'm going to go pack up some stuff and come back so I can sleep here tonight. I'll bring dinner with me on the way back. What do you want to eat? Wait, don't bother telling me. Chinese, right?"

Dawn grinned. "You know it!"

So Gabby went home and packed up as much of her gear she could fit into her car, plus the dogs and their crates and their toys and their food and all their crap, then dropped them off and made another two trips back and forth between her house and Peter and Dawn's with more of her belongings. She made one more final trip, then stopped to grab Chinese takeout. She served them dinner while Dawn and Peter took it easy, and then tended to Charlotte and explained all the new things she was eating and read her the fortune she pulled from the cookie. After dinner, she taught Peter and Dawn how to handle the dogs, and Charlotte got her first lesson on how to pet the doggies nicely and not pull their tails. For the first night since Sebastian was born, Dawn slept in the bed instead of a reclining chair, and Peter was over the moon with that change alone. The phone at Gabby's house didn't ring that night.

It took three more nights for the phone at Gabby's house to ring, and when she wasn't there to answer, Micky assumed she must be working late and forgot to try her again later. It was two more days before he remembered he ought to call her and once again the house phone went unanswered, even though he was calling at 11:00 p.m. her time, just as he was straggling in from a bar that he virtuously left just before closing time so he wouldn't be calling Gabby too late. He thought it odd that she didn't pick up the phone, but figured maybe she went to sleep early and..." He was about to finish that sentence with "and couldn't hear the phone ring," when he realized he was just fooling himself, making excuses and rationalizing the situation. Gabby was not a heavy sleeper, and she was a night owl. She should by all rights be wide awake, sitting up in bed reading a mystery novel and picking up the phone on the first ring. So why wasn't she answering, and where was she?

Suddenly, it occurred to him to count back in time the number of days it had been since he had actually spoken to her. He was alarmed to realize that it had been at least ten days since he had spoken to Gabby. How could this be? How could he have let that happen? Why hadn't he tried calling her at work when she didn't pick up the phone at home? Then again, why hadn't she tried calling him? She had a phone number for his hotel room. Sure, it was their custom for him to call her so that she never interfered with his work schedule, but wasn't she worried about not hearing from him? Wouldn't she at least be a little bit concerned that he was dead in a ditch somewhere? How come he was the bad guy in this situation? Slowly, the rationalizations and justifications overtook Micky's brain and now it was a point of principle that he would not call Gabby. It was up to her to call him. How dare she not call him? How dare she care so little for him? Sure, he'd been out partying every night, and sure, there was that little matter hanging over them that he hoped she hadn't figured out, but somehow he suspected she might have and dreaded someday she would. But still, that was no reason to . . .

When Micky got into denial, he dove in head first. Now he was immersed in it, wallowing in it, drowning in it. Somehow, he had convinced himself that he was the aggrieved party. This gave him the license he needed to party even harder, to partake of even more hanky panky, and to disregard every vow he'd ever made. After all, if she didn't even care enough to pick up the phone and call him . . .

Word soon began to percolate amongst the Monkees family that Dawn was in a world of hurt, and that Gabby had moved in to try to help out. Soon, everyone pulled together to try to be of assistance. Even Wendy set aside her petty bullshit and hired a helper for Dawn to come to the house twice a week to do whatever it was that Dawn needed help with, be it cleaning, cooking up batches of food, or just watching the kids so that Dawn could take a nap or run errands.

Just as suddenly, Davy began to visit the house regularly. Or Uncle Davy, as he liked to be called. He adored spending time with the kids. Charlotte was a tomboy at heart, which suited Davy fine, though he was just as adept at conforming to her girly moments and having tea parties with brown bear and her other stuffed animals when the occasion called for it. He usually was there at bedtime to give her a bath and read her a story and send her off to dreamland, as he called it, with a lullaby or two. They were his specialty. Then he'd hang out with the grownups and chat and reminisce about the old days or share what he was up to lately.

Davy had returned to his old love, horses, and had purchased a couple of horses that weren't valuable or race-ready, but that were beautiful, noble creatures who needed good homes and who deserved to live out their lives in a beautiful place. So he acquired a stable and a paddock and a ring and he spent a fair amount of time with them, when he wasn't busy pounding the pavement looking for opportunities to entertain the masses. He also was an entrepreneur and had several irons in the fire for business ventures.

Peter and Dawn were early-to-bed types, so often it was just Gabby and Davy shooting the shit late into the night. Gabby appreciated having a friend to talk to, particularly now that she didn't have her nightly call from Micky to look forward to. It was nice to have a friend to tell about her work day, and to have someone to reminisce with about old times. More than that, Davy was amusing company as well as a very deep and soulful person. The only thing she couldn't figure out at first was how he managed to have so much free time to be spending at Peter and Dawn's without cramping his dating life with Jan. Eventually, the truth came out.

One night, after Gabby had been staying at Peter and Dawn's about two weeks and Davy was over, he'd had a bit too much to drink and his lips got rather flabby. For that matter, Gabby had had more than her usual share of wine, trying to drown her sorrows out from the inevitable truth that apparently Micky no longer cared about her enough to call her. They hadn't spoken in more than a month by her reckoning, and that seemed to be a very bad sign.

She screwed up her eyes and tried to focus them on Davy, whose outline seemed fairly blurry to her in the glow of the lamplight. "Davy, how come you can be over here all the time and Jan doesn't get pissed off? If I were her and you were my man, I'd be kinda put out."

Davy shifted in his chair uncomfortably, took a swig of the rest of the contents of his glass and said "Well, Gabby, it's like this. Jan finally got fed up with waiting for me to get me head on straight and take the next step in our relationship. That's a direct quote, mind you. She told me to 'op it and I haven't seen her in months."

Gabby knew girl-talk pretty well, but she was kind of fuzzy on the details here and wanted Davy to spell it out for her. "Does that mean she wanted to move in together with you?"

Davy shook his head side to side. "Nah, nah, it's fruitier than that. She wanted the whole bloomin' thing. The orange blossoms, the walk down the aisle, the I-do's, the honeymoon, the 'till death do us part, the whole thing."

Gabby exhaled a breath with a big _poof_ at the end. "Wow, well, I don't blame her. You've been together a long time. What's wrong with her wanting that? And what did you say?"

"There's nothing wrong with her wanting that. And what I said was 'Jan, you're a smashing girl and I'll probably hate meself for the rest of me life for breaking your 'eart, but I cahn't marry you.'"

"But why, Davy, WHY?" Gabby was incredulous, her mouth gaping and her eyes as big as saucers.

Davy stood up and walked over to Gabby, then knelt down in front of her. He gently put his hand on her cheek and stroked it with his fingertips.

"I cahn't marry Jan or anyone else until I stop being in love with you, Gabby. I've been in love with you for years, ever since the night of the protest march in '67, and I can't give meself totally to anyone else. I don't want to love you, but I do and I cahn't get past it. Those feelings haunt me. I've tried everything I could to bury them, suppress them, forget them, move past them, burn them out of me brain, outrun them, outlive them, but nothing works. They're still there. What can I do?"

A flood of sympathy washed over Gabby. She couldn't hate Davy or even resent him for importuning her with these words that were so inappropriate and burdensome to her. She could see how tormented he was, how his life had been so miserable at a certain level for years and in a peculiar way she felt responsible. She felt she owed him an amends even though she had committed no offense and even if she had, it had been entirely without volition or intention.

"Davy, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry you've been suffering all this time. I'm sorry that I'm the cause of your suffering. I can't – I don't – I really don't know what to say to you to help you."

Davy gripped her face in his hand more firmly now. "Gabby, please, just put me out of me misery. Just once, let me have you. Give yourself to me once. Maybe it will break the spell. I've always been able to have any girl I wanted. You were the one I never could have. Maybe that's all it is. I mean, I love you and I respect you, but maybe this is just a fixation. Maybe that's all it is. That's what Lynda thinks it might be."

Gabby blinked, somewhat aghast that someone else in their circle knew about this. "Lynda? You told Lynda about this? What must she think of me?"

"I told her about it ages ago because I needed someone's advice and she tried her best to help me work through it. She doesn't think anything bad about you. She knows you didn't cause it or bring it on. She knows it's my problem, my fixation, my obsession. She's never told anyone, and she never will."

"Okay. That's good. So what did she advise you to do?"

"She told me to find a good woman and be 'appy with her. She was glad when I met Jan. But then she caught me longing for you again and she told me to knock it off and stick with Jan. I promised her I would give Jan me all, and I did, but I told Lynda I couldn't deny what I felt for you. I just hoped it would go away. But it hasn't. It's still there. Still the same as that night in 1967, when I had to leave you at that march, when I saw you leading the charge, knowing you were walking into a killing field of cops waiting to bust the heads of the protestors. Realizing then what a brave, beautiful, strong woman you were and still are. You stole me 'eart and I've never been able to reclaim it."

"But what about Jan? Did you ever love her?"

"Of course I loved her. And I still love her. But I cahn't commit to her. I cahn't give her what I want to give her, if I still have this lingering doubt in me mind that I'm being unfaithful emotionally and mentally."

"But Davy, I'm married. You can never have me."

"Oh yeah, well that's not what I've heard! I saw those pictures in that trashy magazine. Your ever loving husband, squiring around a barely legal college student while he works on an X-Rated movie? And when was the last time he phoned you? He's treating you like shit, Gabby! You compromise your ideals about not wanting children and offer him the moon and the stars and this is how he repays you? I can give you everything and more. You don't want kids, you don't have to have kids with me. If you and I are the real deal, I'll never cheat on you. I've been carrying the torch for you for years, and if that isn't fidelity, I don't know what is. Me wild oats days are behind me, Gabby. I'm looking for the real deal. I'm looking for forevah and a day. I respect the hell out of you for wanting to maintain your vows with Micky, but didn't you learn anything from that guy Nick? When a guy betrays you and treats you like shit, you show him the door right quick."

That did it. Suddenly, Gabby remembered a conversation she had had with Micky years before when she had warned him that the first time he cheated on her, he was out of her life, no questions asked. She gave him that warning even though she hadn't thought it necessary, but he had asked for it and he got it. She said that he knew her background well enough, having heard about the way Nick abused her and cheated on her with countless women and lorded them over her and used them as a way of destroying her self-esteem. She told him then that if she ever caught Micky cheating on her that she'd leave him and never look back. And here she was, a few weeks removed from having found out that he'd cheated on her and she hadn't walked away yet. She'd only skirted around the issue with passive aggressive reticence and the cold shoulder. She already had her answer, and so did Micky. He knew he was toast, so what was she waiting for? He should be served with divorce papers and she should be making plans for life after him. Was this the universe's way of helping her do that? She was confused. She didn't know.

"I don't know, Davy..."

"You do know. You're just scared because you might find out that you're happy with me and that would turn your status quo upside down. And okay, maybe you're scared because maybe you'll be unhappy with me and you don't want to ruin our friendship. I understand that. I'll make you a promise, Gabby. I will never turn me back on you, whatever you decide. If you give me a chahnce and it doesn't work for you, I'll take it with good grace, bow out and still be your everlasting friend, just as before. Or if you give me a chahnce and you love it, but the guilt's too much for you, same deal. But what if you give me a chahnce and you love it, and you love me and you and I were meant to be together all this time?"

"Well what if we get together and I love it and you figure out that I was just an itch you needed to scratch, then where does that leave me?"

"No worse off than you were an hour or so ago. Except you had some really amazing sex."

"That's pretty brutal, Davy."

"But it's true and you know it."

"An hour, huh? That's all I get?" She smiled wryly.

Davy grinned back at her wickedly. "How much time do you want?"

"All night. I'm a talker. I like to talk between doing things."

"Sounds good. Only one thing. We cahn't do it here. It wouldn't be right or fair to Peter and Dawn. Come to me place. I'll bring you back whenever you want."

Gabby suddenly felt a bit scared and shy. "Walk into my parlor said the spider to the fly..." she mused.

Davy parried "I have a very cozy parlor." He stood up and held out his hand to Gabby. She rose and took it. They walked to the door and he helped her on with her coat. She grabbed her purse, took a piece of paper from it and scribbled a quick note, walked into the kitchen and left it on Charlotte's booster seat, then went back to the door and let Davy open it for her and exited the house with him.


	24. Chapter 24

They got outside and Gabby headed for her car. Davy looked puzzled as he walked towards his. "'ey, Gabby, where you going, I thought I was taking you to my place?"

Gabby leaned against her car, crossed her arms and legs and shook her head.

"Wow, Jonesy, you are really a reformed boy, aren't you? I guess it's been a while since you had to sneak around. I can't take off with you in your car and then come skulking back here in the morning with you. I left Dawn a note that said I felt like I needed to sleep in my own bed tonight because I have an early morning meeting. If we're done before sunrise, I'll sneak back into the house and grab the note and she won't have seen it. If not, I'll go stop off at my house and change for work and pretend I slept at my house. Dig?"

Davy grinned. "Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive!" 

Gabby smirked. "That's the second spider quote we've made about this. Sounds ominous to me."

"Well, I have been accused of having eight arms and hands by some birds," Davy joked.

"Okay, Mister. Let's go. I'll follow you to your place."

They reached Davy's apartment and he let them in with his key. It was a beautiful apartment with a huge glass window wall, overlooking the ocean in Marina Del Ray. Davy had bought a boat and loved to take his boat out when he wasn't busy caring for his horses. He had a gorgeous view of the ocean and the marina, and a private slip for his boat. He had always had an affinity for the water, and when he lived with the guys at the Pad, he most often could be found down on the beach, swimming in the waves, far out beyond the breakers.

Gabby entered the apartment and scanned it, noting its features. It was surprisingly light and airy, with a pastel color scheme. Hardly the stereotypical male dark color scheme for the usual bachelor pad. He had white sofas and chairs, accented with colored throw pillows and blinds with pastel colors the shades of a sunset, in blue, yellow, coral and lavender. His kitchen dinette set was a white tulip table and chairs designed by Eero Saarinen and he had other mid-century modern furniture in various shades of white, silver and blonde wood.

It was sleek and stylish, though not terribly homey, despite his claim that his parlor was cozy. The floor was covered with furry, white shag carpeting. Gabby eyed it with a bit of intrigue and hunger, which did not escape Davy's notice, but he said nothing for now. He just filed it away in his mind for later.

She noticed that he had a fireplace and asked him to light a fire. It was chilly in his apartment and she sank down on his couch and shivered a bit. Noticing she was trembling, he reached for an afghan strewn across the back of the couch, draped it around her and knelt down and turned up the gas in the fireplace. He walked over to the bar he kept on a tray and asked what he could get her to drink. She requested red wine and was presented with a Gabby-sized large glass. He poured himself one as well, as opposed to his usual whiskey, hoping to put her at ease that he wasn't planning on getting hammered and taking advantage of her.

He sat down next to her on the couch and turned to face her, then raised his glass to her and asked "What should we drink to?"

Gabby gave it some thought and responded "To finding some answers for you, Davy, to finding some peace for you. And maybe finding you some happiness. I don't know if you'll find what you're looking for, but I do want you to. I'm not sure what I'm looking for, other than a friend to comfort me. Do you understand that? I don't want you to be under any illusions that there's more at stake for me in this."

Davy nodded. "I understand. So, to peace, answers, and comfort." They clinked glasses together and took a sip, then some more sips, just staring at each other and taking in each other's presence. 

Davy placed his glass on the coffee table, then took Gabby's glass from her hand and did the same with hers. He reached under the blanket and nestled under it with her, wrapping it around them both and moving his shoulder into hers.

"How are you feeling, Gabby?"

She put her head on his shoulder and replied "Scared, confused, worried, but pretty sure this is the right thing to do. Pretty sure that neither one of us deserves to be miserable, and that we both have a chance at maybe being happy or at least finding closure. I've suspected for years that you had feelings for me, Davy. I can't say it made me happy to suspect that."

Davy jerked his head towards her, looking shocked and surprised. "How did you know?"

She gazed at him like he was a simpleton. "Davy, I can read people's emotions in deeper ways than most people. It's called empathy, or you can call it telepathy, but frankly, you just didn't do a good enough job of hiding it. I tried to deny what I thought I sensed, but I could tell there was something in your heart that you were battling, something you were holding back from me. I didn't want it to be true, so I ignored it. But it stood between us and our friendship, and I mourned that loss. I missed you as my friend, the guy I helped dodge the draft, the guy I went to the rally with, the guy I tried to find a girlfriend for. You know I fixed you up with Jan?"

Davy laughed bitterly. "Yeah, I heard about that later. I should thank you for that, but I won't. It would be too twisted."

Gabby faced him and said "We're not going to be hurting Jan, are we? She's my friend, she's still part of the family, as far as I know, though since none of us heard you guys split up, maybe that's not true anymore."

Davy shrugged "I don't know if she's still part of the family, Gabby. She's different than Lynda. Jan's just someone I dated. Lynda was a soulmate for me and one of your best friends despite my having failed to be the man she needed me to be. And she ended up being one of me best friends, apart from you and Micky. If Jan hasn't called you or any of the other girls to tell them she dumped me, then I'd look at it as more of a divorce and she's ceding custody of the family to me."

"Well, that's one small favor. I don't want to do anything that would betray her. As it is, if this gets out, it's going to cause a great furor, whether we end up together or not. We have to keep this quiet. I'm not going to tell anyone, are you?"

"I don't think so, though it might be a good idea to tell Lynda. She might be helpful in sorting things out. But let's not talk about that now. We don't even know which end is up. Let's just focus on you and me. Okay? Just you and me and where we fit in to each other's lives. Do we even slot together? Do you love me, do you like me, do I turn you on, do I make you feel good? Do I make your heart beat faster?"

"I don't know, Davy. I've never once let my mind go there. You were never on my radar screen. I mean of course, you're beautiful physically, and charming, and you're one of my best friends. But it just never occurred to me to think of you in that way. Do you think about me that way?"

Davy lowered his eyes to Gabby's body, taking it all in, licked his plump, kissable lips, bit them and said "All the time. In all manner of ways."

Gabby leaned back against the couch. "Tell me about your fantasies about me, Davy. Tell me what you've thought about doing with me and to me."

Davy's gut clenched in a pleasurable manner and his dick immediately began to harden. Gabby was beginning a slow seduction now. She said she was a talker. She used words as part of foreplay, and she took her time to get around to the main action. Now things were underway. Your average Neanderthal lunkhead dude wouldn't be smart or sensitive enough to figure that out, but Davy's skills of wooing women were finely honed and he knew the game was afoot. He leaned back, too and let his mind roam free and his mouth have free rein to just empty his mind's contents.

"It depends upon the setting. When we'd go to the beach, I'd see you in your bathing suits. That white one was a killer. That billowy white top and those tiny bikini bottoms.

I wanted to take you over to the Nooky Nook and you'd be sitting up, then I'd let my hand trace over your belly beneath that loose material and figure out what was underneath it. Where was the fabric and where was your skin and flesh? Then I'd move up to your breasts, all hoisted up in those bra cups looking like someone out of an eighteenth century costume drama, and I'd run my fingers over the flesh that was swelling over the tops, ready to burst out if I just pulled those cups down. First the left cup – pop! – right into me waiting mouth. Then the right cup – pop! – letting me hand catch that one as it escaped, pinching the other nipple and squeezing it, making you moan from bliss and pain and pleasure and the different sensations on each nipple, right and left."

Gabby's breath was accelerating and her pupils were dilating, as she let her mind make pictures of Davy's words. 

"Then I'd lay you down and lift up that top and run me hands over the contours of your belly and waist — curvy, swelling in some places and flat in others, then over your hips, kissing all of it. Down to those bottoms, stopping just above the top and licking you until you begged me to remove them. I'd do that slowly, kissing the soft flesh I found there. It would be milky white, because you never let the sun touch it, and there would be more tender flesh there that would need kissing and caressing."

Gabby was hanging on his every word. Then he stopped cold. He would give her no more verbal gratification. He wanted something back in return now.

"How does that sound, Gabby?"

She shook her hazy head and said "It sounds lovely, Davy. I think that would have been very enjoyable."

"What would you like now, Gabby? And what are you willing to let me have?"

Gabby suddenly knew the time had come. She had to decide to act. Dirty talk was mesmerizing and always would be, and now she knew that a guy other than Micky could arouse her with it. But could another guy stimulate her physically? Did she want to find out? He certainly seemed to know what buttons to push, seemed to have the technical know-how. 

"I'd like to let you have your fantasy, Davy, minus the beach and the bathing suit. Would you like that?

"Yes. Now. Here. By the fire, on that rug."

"Then take me, Davy. I'm all in. No reservations. If I find I do have them, I'll let you know. Will you listen to me if I tell you I'm having reservations, that I'm changing my mind? Will you be able to hear me?"

Davy understood what she was getting at. Gabby needed a safe word to stay his passion should it turn to frenzy. "Yes, tell me what you want me to listen for, to hear, to make me stop."

"I'll say, 'Davy, I can't do this.'"

Davy nodded. "Okay, I understand."

Gabby nodded her assent. "Now come get me, Davy. Here I am."

He leaned in towards her and gently took her head in his hands, gazed into her eyes for a moment and then planted a small kiss on her lips, lingering there for a few seconds. He wanted to appreciate it, their very first kiss, to cherish and remember every quality about it in case he never got another one. She did, too. They touched foreheads and looked in to each other's eyes, then smiled.

Davy asked "Did you like that?"

Gabby replied simply "Yes."

"I'm going to ask you that a lot. I'll probably end up sounding like a Gallup poll taker. I'm not insecure, Gabby. I want, no I _need_ information, feedback, a meeting of the minds. And since I don't have the time to build that up over the course of several encounters with you, I'll need you to let me ask you lots of questions. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes, that's perfectly okay. I prefer it that way. I like to talk, to communicate, to ask, to probe, to compare notes and feelings, to give feedback. That's my nature anyway. That's why I said I needed more time with you, why I said I was a talker. I realize what's at stake. I understand the unusual circumstances. We may only have this one night, Davy. So we'll make the most of it and hopefully have our questions answered by the morning."

"Good. I want to kiss you again. Can I do that?"

"Yes, you can. That's another thing that's important to me, and you may as well know it so you don't end up freaking me out and getting upset yourself. Because of what Nick did to me, consent is important, so ask me for consent along the way and give me a clue about what's coming next so I don't get skittish or freak out. Narrate your fantasy, your plans for me. It also happens to turn me on, which is an added bonus for both of us, I think." She winked at him.

Davy smiled and said "I can live with a ground rule like that! See, this is why I'm so in love with you, Gabby. You know what you want, you ask for it, and you get it. You go for it, you don't hold back, you're not a shrinking flower. You take life by the collar and you shake it until it yields the sweetness you deserve."

"I don't know about that. You make me sound like a mafia don!"

"Well, okay, maybe not that, but you're a force of nature, a force to be reckoned with. I'll never forget the sight of you marching ahead of the pack that night of the Vietnam protest march when President Johnson was in town, leading all those citizens who wanted to do their civic duty to stand up for what was right. I believe you'd still have led the way even if you _had_ known of the violence that was headed your way."

Gabby nodded "I would have."

"That's why I love you. Why I can't get you out of me heart or me head. Come to me, Gabby. Let me love you now, here, tonight."

She moved closer to him and let him envelop her in his arms. He began to plant a series of small kisses all over her face symmetrically. Left cheek, right cheek. Forehead, chin. Right eyelid, left eyelid. Down the left jawline, then up the right jawline. On the right earlobe, then the left one. Orderly, missing nothing. Then he sought out the place just behind her ear, then down her neck, tonguing her and growing less disciplined, more reckless and less targeted, his breathing becoming more erratic. Then his lips were clamped over hers and their mouths devoured each other's. He still hadn't asked for entry into her mouth with his tongue. Everything was still on the surface, still tame and respectful. Until he started licking her chin and down her neck, over her clavicle bones and sucking the depression just above them. This made Gabby moan. As soon as she opened her mouth to emit that sound, Davy's mouth was back up to hers and his tongue gently flicked hers, asking for some contact, then quickly retreating again. 

He slipped his hands under her knees, lifted her up and carried her over to the fire, placing her down on the floor but leaving her sitting. Pretending her shirt was the bathing suit top, he lifted it up and felt beneath it, surveying her stomach and feeling her smooth skin. He unbuttoned her blouse one at a time so that he could gain access to her bra. It was a fancy one that Micky had bought her in the first flush of their baby making activities, and it did in fact push her breasts up quite a bit. Davy looked down at her breasts, spotted the bra, and gave her a look of utter delight. She shrugged sheepishly. 

"That's a relic of my baby making motivation wardrobe."

Davy waved away the reference to babies and baby making and all the baggage it implied. He merely said "You look delectable, Gabby. It suits you, but you do more for it than it does for you. You have the most magnificent breasts I've ever had the pleasure never to have seen up close and personal. This in and of itself is worth the years of waiting. Can I plunder your treasure?"

Gabby smiled at his flattery, which she actually believed he meant sincerely. "Go ahead, plunder away," she laughed and consented.

Just as he had described in his fantasy, he pulled at her bra cups and dealt with each nipple in turn, sucking and pinching and squeezing, separately and simultaneously, as Gabby moaned and arched her back into his touch. He pulled her bra the rest of the way down and took the rest of her flesh into his hands, allowing it to overtop his relatively small hands and overflow them. This erotic sight delighted and sent him into paroxysms of enthusiastic compliments, caresses and kisses, letting her know how much he worshiped her and valued this opportunity to pay tribute to her assets. He was the supplicant, being given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and he stayed humble and grateful. Gone was the cocky Davy for now. He was all appreciation and compliments, affirming all that he had admired before, taking inventory of every inch of what he saw as pure perfection and delectation. 

He slid her bra straps down her shoulders an inch, then looked at her questioningly, lifting an eyebrow, silently asking permission. She nodded her head and he gently and slowly, almost tantalizingly, teasingly, slid the straps down further, kissing her shoulders and arms one at a time as he moved her bra straps down to the crooks of her elbows. When they reached that juncture, he put his lips there and lightly licked that sensitive flesh, causing her to sharply inhale and arch her back again. As she moved towards him, he put his hand on the side of her left breast and rubbed the mound of her flesh there, spreading it out and kneading it, tickling its sensitive nerve endings. Then he repeated the move on the other side. Finally, he reached behind her and with a practiced hand, unsnapped the clasp and removed the baby blue, lacy bra that Micky called his "gimme a son bra" and tossed it aside.

He now lifted up Gabby's breasts with both his hands, elevating them several inches as the lift of the bra had done, giving them that same swelling slope, and he rubbed his cheeks over the resulting fleshy mounds. Occasionally, he'd flick his tongue from nipple to nipple, causing her to writhe and cry out, and to lean into him begging him for more. Finally, she asserted her own agency over the situation and threaded her hands through his chestnut brown hair, and pressed his mouth to her breasts, silently requesting firmer and longer contact, which he was happy to grant.

He eased her onto her back and continued to plunder her breasts for several minutes. She thrashed her head back and forth and wondered how much longer she could take this much lavish attention to her nipples. She almost felt on the verge of orgasm already. She whispered "Davy, if you want this party to last, you'd best diversify your portfolio and find another spot to drill. This oil rig is about to blow."

Davy laughed and responded "Damn, Gabby, that's one of the things that drives me utterly crazy about you. Your filthy, hilarious mouth. Do you remember me telling you that before the march? I told you that you had a mouth like a sailor. I said I wished I'd fought Micky a little harder for you when we were divvying up the girls that night he picked you out. I think that's the precise moment I started falling in love with you."

Gabby exhaled a breath. "Wow. Nobody ever found my cussing to be a positive asset before. You're the first, Davy. Well, you always were an odd duck. Maybe it's because you've got the filthiest mouth of all the Monkees yourself. You're a connoisseur of cussing. There's no accounting for taste." She shrugged her shoulders.

Davy knew she was deflecting from embarrassment, so he dropped the matter, but he had wanted her to know how deep and far back his love for her went, and now she did. 

"I want to see the rest of you, Gabby. Are you ready for that?"

"Well, wait a minute. How come you're still fully dressed? You know me, I'm a women's libber. I'm all about equality. I'm not taking off another stitch of clothing until we even up the score a bit!"

"Sure, yeh, that's fair. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Maybe you're just a shy, retiring, shrinking violet?"

Davy gave a hearty chuckle and said "Well, do you want to unwrap your present or should I do it for you?"

Gabby flirted "I've never once allowed anyone to unwrap my gifts for me. I'm in charge of my own bliss in that department. Plus, isn't part of your fantasy for me to undress you?"

"Abso-fuckin-lutely, Gabby."

"Well there you go. I don't want you to end this experience thinking there was something left undone. In for a penny, in for a pound, right, as you Brits say?"

"Indeed we do. Go ahead, unwrap me."

Gabby sat up and ran her hands lightly over Davy's arms. He was wearing a button down shirt of light fabric. He always wore them very fitted, almost tight. It was obvious he had them tailor made to his own measurements, as there wasn't a scrap of extra material hanging out over his pants. The shirt clung to his muscles and curves perfectly, showing off what was there to the best degree possible. She couldn't resist asking him about it.

"You have these shirts made especially for you, don't you?"

"Yes. I'm me own shape and size and it's easier than trying to find them in stores."

"And, you like the girls to see what you've got on offer, right, Davy?" She gave him a sly grin and a wink.

"Yeh, that too," he admitted. "You like the shirt?"

"Yes, very much. It's handsome and classy. Not too much, just right. Handsome and sexy, plus it shows you can afford to have your clothes tailored. It shows you care about your appearance."

Davy commented "I notice you don't really care about yours, but you still always end up looking gorgeous. How do you manage that, Gabby?"

She looked at him bewildered. "Good genes, a life lived with integrity, big tits and an ass to match?"

Davy barked out a short laugh. "Nah, that's not what I meant. You definitely care about what you look like. What I mean is, you dress for yourself, though. You don't dress to match the fads or fashions, and you don't always get all dolled up. I never know what you're going to look like when I see you. So what I'm saying is, that's another refutation that I just have a crush on your surface beauty. Because half the time I see you, you're not made up or dressed up at all. But your beauty shines through anyway."

She was now undoing the buttons on Davy's shirt one at a time. When she got to his belly, she paused and opened the shirt to reveal what she had felt already: a taut, firm, almost rock-hard chest and abdomen with virtually no hair on it, tanned despite it being the middle of winter. She took a quick intake of breath. With her thumb, she tentatively ran it over his flesh, pressing in on it to feel its strength and watch it spring back quickly every time she pressed into it. He had virtually no body fat whatsoever. He was solid muscle without being showy or crude about it. She let her fingers stray over to his nipples, which were a dusky rose, much darker than her own light pink ones. He flinched as her fingers passed over them. They hardened immediately at the contact.

She licked the thumb and forefinger of her right hand and returned it to his left nipple, then applied the moisture to it and rubbed again, twisting ever so gently. Again, he jumped, as if a zing of electricity had been administered. 

"You like that?"

He just looked deep into her eyes and nodded silently. 

She bent down to apply her tongue to the same nipple and let just the tip of it touch the dark rose nipple, just as it was losing its hardness. It immediately reversed course and became rock hard again. He hissed with ecstasy. She allowed her mouth to stray, planting kisses all over his chest and pectorals, up his neck and then to his mouth. She threaded her fingers through his hair and firmly brought his head to hers, kissing him passionately and with definite tongue, then let her hands slip down his chest again, all the way to his belly to feel his rock hard abdomen. Her fingers strayed to the waistband of his pants, teasingly making the circuit, then tugging his shirt out of his pants and flying to his cuffs to unbutton them. She left the shirt on and returned to his torso, then slipped her hands around his back and let her fingers play over his back muscles, which were taut and defined as well.

Then in a quick movement, she slipped his shirt off and he helped remove it. Now they sat cross-legged across from each other, each shirtless, staring at each other, admiring the view. Gabby held up her palms and placed them in front of his chest just barely out of reach of his skin and moved them all around, as if scanning his aura or observing some invisible force field around him. He waited and then did the same to her. But when he finished, he allowed his hands to move forward and land on her breasts, taking them firmly in his hands and beginning to knead and stretch them. She moaned and threw her arms around him. 

She laid down and pulled him down with her, twining her legs with his, letting him know that her lower half was now available to his touch. He took his leg and nudged hers apart, insinuating his body into her most intimate area, letting her know he had picked up on her silent message. Now they were in sync and communicating, and this made them both feel more secure in what they were doing. She felt the unmistakable evidence of his desire for her, his rock hard erection pressing against her crotch and inner thigh. He wasn't wasting any time or being coy. He wanted her and needed her to know he meant business. She had the chance to walk away and that moment was now. She didn't flee, though. Instead, her mind was busy anticipating what he would do next with her body.

As if he was reading her mind, he asked "Can I touch you below your waist Gabby? I want to know what you feel like down there. Been dreamin' of it for years."

She sighed contentedly and said "Before you touch me, Davy, tell me about those dreams. Was it always the same dream, the same situation, or did you have lots of different fantasies?"

Davy began to nibble her neck and whispered in her ear. "Oh, I've had you every which way in me mind, a thousand times each."

She shivered with anticipation and a bit of shock. "Mmmmm, you _have_ been busy, Davy. Well if you had to pick your most favorite fantasy, the one you thought about the most, which would that be?"

Davy continued to kiss her neck and talk in a low and sensual voice into her ear. "We're still at the beach. I could never get you and that white swimsuit out of me mind. It haunted me dreams. We're on the pebbly sand at the Nooky Nook, but the pebbles don't hurt us, or maybe there's a blanket beneath us. I've stripped off your bathing suit top, and now you've got those tiny white bikini bottoms on. I'm kissing you all around the top of them, teasing you with my tongue, trying to convince you to let me go below them and see what's there. Finally, you relent and you let me put a finger down an inch or so, and then me lips and then me tongue. You're all squirmy, sort of resisting because this is our first time together and you're not sure what's in store for you. But I know, and I cahn't wait to give it to you."

"What are you going to give me Davy?"

"A right going over with me tongue like you've never had before. It's gonna be like Peter's song. It's gonna blow the top right offa your head."

"Do you want to do that now, Davy?" Gabby asked him this dreamily, knowing it was mostly a rhetorical question, more of an invitation.

He moved his head so that he could look deeply into her eyes, with all the sincerity he could muster. "Yes, yes I do, Gabby. That would make me so happy and fulfill a great fantasy."

Gabby gave him an equally sincere and level gaze. "Then go ahead and take me, Davy, and live out another fantasy. I'm going to grant all of your fantasies tonight. All except one, if you've had it, though I doubt you have. There's only one thing off limits. It's what Nick did to me. My backdoor is locked. You can touch but you can't come in. You understand?"

Davy nodded solemnly. "I wouldn't want that anyway, but thanks for letting me know where your boundaries are. It makes me feel even freer."

Gabby threw her arms out to her sides and spread her legs a bit more. "I'm on the beach lying down, and you can make your next move, Davy."

Davy gave a hungry look down towards her abdomen and inserted one finger into her waistband, then slipped all of them in. He let them roam over the flesh on her belly, above where her panties sat, and he closed his eyes and just focused on how soft her skin was. Then he opened his eyes again, focused his gaze on her eyes, popped open the button on her jeans and slowly lowered the zipper. He returned to caressing the flesh above her panties, dipping his fingers into it and pressing down, watching it indent and retract. He took hold of her jeans and silently asked for permission to remove them, to which she responded with a nod.

Now she was that girl in the bikini bottoms, lying on the sand, and Davy's mind went wild with desire. He lowered his mouth and breathed warm breaths on her skin, bestowing kisses on the curves and indentations, then tonguing them and licking them. He flicked his tongue below the waistband of her panties and she sucked in a gasp of breath. Then he took her by surprise and lowered his hand and caressed her sex over the fabric of her panties. He closed his eyes and moaned with satisfaction, while Gabby continued to take in small breaths in gasps. His finger glided over her slit up to her clitoris, making her jump and squeak, then giggle a bit, then squirm. His finger continued its journey north, all the way up to her nipple and squeezed it, as if to make the connection between the two erogenous zones. He put his tongue on her nipple where his finger had just tweaked it, and began to suckle her, but only to get her motor revving. He quickly descended back down to her sex, hooked his fingers in her panties — lacy, baby blue ones to match the bra — and gave her one more look to make sure she was engaged in this and okay with what he was doing. Her eyes were closed with bliss, so he whispered "Gabby?" She left her eyes closed and said "Yes, Davy. Yes. Take me."

He stripped off her panties and spread her legs, just having a look at the treasure laid before him. Now she opened her eyes to see what he was experiencing. She was curious and wanted to read his emotions. His face read reverence, appreciation, and hunger. She encouraged him, "Go on, Davy. I'm here to take you on your mind's journey. To help you find answers. To maybe find one for myself, too. But above all, this is about you getting your heart's desire. Take it."

Davy seemed humbled. "Part of me heart's desire is for you to let me love you, Gabby, to make you happy. Not just get pleasure for meself. That's why I want to do this first."

She smiled and answered "That makes you an extraordinary man, Davy. That counts for a lot in my book."

His eyes lit up, as if she had bestowed upon him a dispensation of absolution for all the times he had taken selfish pleasure from women and then left immediately after. This would be different, _had_ to be different.

He lowered his head and proceeded to go down on her in a way that she had never experienced before. It was true that every guy had his own technique, or in the case of the inept, no technique at all. But where Davy was concerned, it was like he was writing a sonnet to her pleasure. It was slow, deliberate, carefully constructed, and heartfelt. It was like he could feel what she was feeling and knew exactly what she needed, where and when. He knew but he didn't always let her have it right away. He brought her to the edge more than once and then backed off. At first she worried she'd lose the thread of the climax and it wouldn't return. Orgasms were such ephemeral, fleeting, temperamental things, particularly for women, but Davy knew how to manage her body and bring it along and build the tension and keep her on the boil. Finally, when he was ready, he asked her "Are you ready to feel good, Gabby?" She moaned and begged, "Please, please, yes, yes, Davy, bring me home." He gave a couple more licks and tweaks and then she was falling over the edge of a great, gushing waterfall. She felt the sensations pouring from each of her limbs like they were garden hoses turned on at full strength and the spigots were gushing out pleasure. Her shouts turned to moans and sighs, and he finally gathered her body up in his arms and held her close to him, rocking her and holding her, kissing her hair, shoulders, places that weren't too sensitive to his touch.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, with him rocking her, singing her a quiet tune she recognized as one of the lullabies he had sung to Charlotte. She asked what it was and he named the tune. "It's from me childhood. I sing it when I want a person I love to go to a happy place."

"I'm not sure if I'm happy, Davy. I'll have to wait for a bit to see how that shakes out. It's complicated and not entirely to do with you. But you made me feel fantastic, and I thank you for that. Did I make you feel good, granting you your fantasy?"

Davy kissed Gabby with an intensity she wasn't expecting. "Gabby, you'll never know how good I feel."

"I want you to feel even better, Davy. I assume in your fantasies, I get to touch you and you get to be naked. Want to share some of that with me?"

Davy nodded. "You're totally naked, and you say to me 'You've got too many clothes on, me boy-o. Let me 'elp you off with those swim trunks."

Gabby giggled at his British slang, but repeated the sentence and began to strip him down. She removed his brown leather belt with the shiny square buckle. Then she peeled off his tight blue jeans, remarking that she liked it when he dressed sloppy once in a while.

"You were always so immaculately turned out. It was kind of intimidating. I could never compete with your wardrobe if I were your bird, Davy."

He held her gaze and said "If you were my bird, Gabby, I wouldn't care if you wore a mechanic's jumpsuit and combat boots, as long as I could see some of your cleavage."

She laughed and said "Okay, Davy. One thing we need to get straight. Friend or lover, I don't tolerate dishonesty. You care about appearances. One of my more favorite expressions is 'Don't bullshit a bullshitter.' Okay? So don't go promising me the moon and the stars and then go changing on me once you think you've got me. You'd better tip your hand and show me exactly who you are and what you expect, because if you try to snow me just to get me and you've lied to me and try to change me once you have me, you aren't going to like the massive amount of resentment and outrage that I will rain down upon your head as I'm leaving you. That's what Nick did to me and I'll never fall for it again. You get me?"

Davy bowed his head. "Yeah, I get you. No bullshit, no lies, no secrets, no trying to change you. I take you as you are or I don't take you at all. But what about me? I already know I'm annoying as shit and I'm going to have to change things for you."

Gabby smiled smugly and said "That's called personal growth, Davy. That's different. Same as on my end. If and when two people get together, they have to compromise and adjust to each other. That's only natural. I'm sure I'd have to do that, too. I'm just saying don't try to change who I am. If you need a girl who never has a hair out of place, or a girl who you don't want to get down in the trenches and lay her life on the line for a cause, then I'm not the girl for you. Either way, I'm still gonna fuck you tonight to a fare-thee-well, so don't worry about that now. Just giving you a preview of coming attractions in case that's where your mind is headed. Now, let's get back to what I can do for you."

Davy let loose a hearty laugh and hugged Gabby. "I love you, Gabby, for so many reasons, but one of the most important is that you know who you are, what your values are, and what you want. I've needed so many years to get even close to that, and I could really use a friend and lover to help me get more solid with that."

Gabby reached for Davy and pulled him towards her. "Friend or lover, Davy, you already have that in me. Just ask. I've been waiting for years for you to ask, and it made me sad that you never did. I mourned the loss of our friendship."

Davy looked at her now with shock and dismay. "You did?"

Gabby nodded her head. "Yes. I could tell something was wrong that first night I introduced you to Jan. I couldn't figure out what it was, but I knew something had changed between you and me, I mean earlier that night, before I introduced you two, and it was never the same. I just tried to do what I thought was best for you by hooking you up with her. I'm not going to apologize for doing it. You had free will to say no, and I wasn't working with a complete set of facts. But I do feel bad that we lost so much time. Now that there are no more secrets between us, please, let's never part again, let's never let there be distance between us. I love you, no matter what that word means."

They hugged and Davy let loose a few tears, as did Gabby. She began to kiss his neck and shoulders, then his chest. She laid him down on the fuzzy rug in front of the fire and removed his briefs. She took a moment to just admire what she saw without touching anything, just smiling to herself. He was perfectly proportioned for his body size, so it was hard to tell whether he was objectively smaller or the same size as Micky. It seemed irrelevant anyway, as a more perfect looking penis she had never seen. It was pink, almost dusky red, and purple at the tip. He was circumcised, for which she sent up a silent thanks. He had some fluid already dripping from the head, so worked up had he gotten. Her finger idly dipped into it and he jumped as if he had been electrocuted. She smiled and giggled, as did he, and she smeared it around the sensitive head, then licked her finger clean.

"In your fantasy, Davy, do I go for the gold and make love to you, or do I fondle you, or do I go down on you? What comes next after I've stripped you naked?"

"Well, it depends upon how long the fantasy is going to be. Whether I'm going to have time to bounce back and have another go or I only get one crack at you. If I can only have you once, then we make love. If I'm going to have time to recover, you go down on me and then I make love to you later, maybe once or maybe multiple times."

"So we said we have all night, Davy, but how much energy and stamina have you got? You've been drinking and it's late and..."

He forestalled her from finishing the sentence. "Gabby, think of this as a dying man's last request. After tonight, there may be no more you and me, no us. I want it all. I want all my fantasies. Physical limitations don't exist, at least until I can't get it up anymore."

"So I take it you'd like me to pleasure you with my tongue, Davy?" She asked him with a saucy wink.

"Yes, that's what I want, please." He laid down in front of the fire, with his arms behind his head. Gabby grabbed a pillow from the couch and tucked it behind his head, mentioning "that's so you can get a better view of the show." He grinned with wicked glee and anticipation.

She took her time, priming Davy by kissing him all over from head to toe, then repeating it with her tongue but going nowhere near his groin. She explored places that probably had not gotten much attention lately, like the insides of his ankles, behind his knees, his toes, the insides of his feet's arches, the insides of his thighs. She put his legs on her shoulders and took her fingertips and stroked his buttocks and the backs of his thighs. He squirmed and sighed, while gripping hold of the fluffy rug. Finally, she let her fingers stray towards his package. It was on high alert, so the minute she touched it, it twitched. From head to shaft, she made her way down to his balls with her fingers, then gently squeezed everything. 

She moved in for a closer greeting and said "Hi, I'm Gabby, nice to meet you." Davy cracked up and reached for her hair and ruffled it. She took one of his balls quickly into her mouth as she knew he wasn't expecting it, and he almost jumped off the floor. It seemed to her she had found something else he had never experienced, which seemed impossible, considering the sheer number of women he'd been with. She gave the testicle a delicate lick and a suck as he crawled out of his skin and reacted violently. She paused and couldn't help her curiosity. "That can't be a new one on you, can it, Davy?" He just exhaled his breath and gasped "Yeh, I never knew what I was missing..."

"My, my, I guess there's something to be said for sleeping with nice girls, eh?" Gabby teased him.

"It's obviously got its major selling points."

Gabby went back to her pleasurable task, tonguing Davy's balls and licking the smooth area behind them. "Hold on to your choppers, Davy," taking both his testicles into her mouth at the same time. This caused him to arch his back and cry out, still gripping the rug firmly as if to keep from floating up to the ceiling. Gabby was enjoying blowing his mind, the great Casanova whom she figured had seen and felt it all. It gave her a sense of power over him.

She licked a wide stripe up his shaft with the flat of her tongue, then teased the head with the tip of her tongue before taking hold of it and firmly mouthing it. She figured out where he was most sensitive and alternately gave that spot lots of attention or only sparingly teasing it. She reckoned it was time to blow his mind again, so she firmly gripped his whole penis and began to feed it down her throat. With his head propped up on the pillow, his eyes widened in surprise and pleasure as he watched his entire cock disappear into her mouth and throat. When he felt it nudge the back of her throat, he plopped his head back down on the pillow and groaned in disbelief and pleasure.

She kept her movements steady for a bit, adding in a bit of tongue for spice and variety, until his breathing began to speed up and he grabbed hold of her shoulders to signal that he was approaching climax.

"Gabby, I'm going to . . . You might want to..."

She shook him off, smiled at him, and flipped him the bird. He smiled back and closed his eyes, giving himself over to the impending wave that was threatening to overtake him. Seconds later it arrived, with his writhing and moaning and saying her name over and over, as if it were the sweetest song of all time. 

"Gabby, Gabby, oh Gabby. Yes, do that, Gabby. Make me come for you, Gabby, only for you, only evah for you."

As he rode out his pleasure, he continued to babble. "So long, I've waited so long. Never thought... Couldn't have you... Cried meself to sleep sometimes. Other times went to sleep with me dick in me 'ands. But always you. Always you. I wanted you so bad, Gabby. I still do. I want more of you. You'll let me have more, won't you?"

Gabby moved up and laid her body upon his body and caressed him. "Shhhh, Davy, I'm here now. I told you can have me all night. I'm not going anywhere. Just lie there and feel good. Enjoy the pleasure. Don't remember the pain. That's not what this is about."

Davy wrapped his arms around Gabby and clutched her fiercely to him. "I'm in deep, Gabby. I'm more in love with you than when you got here."

"Those are endorphins and hormones, Davy. Just have a good time and sort out the feelings later. I haven't figured out how I feel, so you won't have an answer no matter what when I leave here this morning. Just make love to me, enjoy my body, be my friend, help ease my sorrow and yours. I'm married. I'm not free yet. I have decisions to make and that hasn't changed. Let's just enjoy each other physically and see if you get over me like you thought you might. If you don't, I may be in the market for a guy who worships me." She giggled and he chuckled with her.

"I have a mantra I live by, Davy. I say 'Keep it in the day and do what's in front of you.' What's in front of us right now is a night of lovemaking so you can see if you can get over me once you nabbed me, just like all the other birds you've nailed. I wouldn't blame you if that happened. Don't get ahead of yourself. Just enjoy the moment. Don't read anything more into it than that. You'll only get hurt by things neither of us can control. Okay? That was our bargain. We'll stick to the plan, right?"

Davy had shed some tears and now he wiped them away. "You're right, Gabby. You know me better than I know meself. You're protecting meself from me worst impulses, as well as protecting yourself."

Gabby stroked Davy's chestnut locks. "That's right, Davy. That's my spirited, confident, sensible friend. You always land on your feet because you size up the situation and go into it with eyes wide open. I admire you for that. That's how you coaxed me into your parlor."

Davy grinned. "It is?"

Gabby nodded her head. "Yep. You had an answer for all my what ifs. You had it all thought out. You had a clear head. So don't lose heart now, Davy. Be brave and let's enjoy this night and support each other."

Davy inquired "In that case, what can I do to support you, Gabby?"

"I'd like you to make love to me before I leave. Want to take a break and regroup later?"

Davy cocked his head and asked "Why, are you tired now?"

Gabby was confused. "Uhh, no, it's just that, I just uuuhh, I just gave you what you would call 'a right going over,' so I thought that..."

Davy's eyes were glittering with mirth. He caressed Gabby's cheek with his hand, kissed her lips, then took her hand and brought it down between his legs. He had a stiffy that was rarin' to go. She pulled away from the kiss with a gasp.

"Whoa, Davy! You're already packin' heat again?"

Davy laughed and said "I won't lie and say this is my usual level of stamina, Gabby. I guess I'm just so keyed up because it's you."

"Well, that's kind of a relief. I couldn't keep you satisfied if this were just an ordinary day at the office for you."

"So where were we?" Davy asked teasingly.

"It's your day, Davy. King for a day. How do you want me?"

He sat up, crossed his arms and insisted, "I want you satisfied, that's how I want you."

Gabby raised her eyebrow and inquired "What does that mean?" 

Davy bowed his head with embarrassment and said reluctantly "Well, I happened to have stumbled on some inside info on how you like it."

Gabby looked horrified. She gulped and stalled for time. "It? What are you talking about?"

Davy said "Gabby, didn't you just tell me never to bullshit a bullshitter? IT. Sexual intercourse. Rumpy pumpy. Making the beast with two backs..."

Gabby held up her hand like a traffic cop and said "Stop! Okay, I get the point. What is this information you have, and how did you just happen to stumble on it?"

Davy blushed and admitted "Micky talks in his sleep."

Gabby challenged "So? What could he possibly say in his sleep that would give you a play-by-play about our sex life?"

"It wasn't like that."

Gabby closed her eyes and sighed, cursing Micky and his big fat mouth.

Davy said "Flying" as if it were a password to a speakeasy club. 

Her eyes widened and she gulped again and blushed. She slapped her forehead and her hand slid down her face.

"What else did he say?"

"Nothing else in his sleep. He'd just say that over and over and over. Night after night. And then the next morning, he'd have to ask the housecleaning staff to change the sheets. So I knew he must be having a sex dream. I joked him about it, teased him that he was ogling one of the girl roadies, just razzing him, but he got all indignant and told me he was dreaming about you. I asked what the word 'flying' meant and he just vomited out the whole thing, chapter and verse. I swear I didn't ask him for details, Gabby."

"Was he sober when he was talking about this?"

Davy shrugged, "Well, maybe not stone cold sober, but I didn't think he was three sheets to the wind. Anyway, I thought it was kind of sweet that he was dreaming of his wife, that he loved you that much. That's why this whole thing with him cheating on you doesn't make any sense to me."

Gabby decided to unburden herself to Davy. "Well, the thing is, Davy, he's an addict. Not really necessarily a hardcore alcoholic, though I guess in hindsight it would have been smarter if he'd have given up all alcohol and maybe by now he is a real drunk. He went through a hard time after the Monkees ended, and he got depressed and then he started taking pills and his personality changed. He started starving himself, drinking hard alcohol to compensate for the calories he wasn't eating so that I wouldn't notice, then he must have got hooked on the booze itself as well as the pills, and to try to cover it all up he started hanging around with those Hollywood Vampires, some of whom are nice guys but most of them are probably alcoholics and druggies themselves and most likely cheat on their wives. Basically, he just got clinically depressed. He did rehab and he pulled himself together, and I guess he did fine when he was out on the road with you. He always did benefit from being around you, and I guess vice versa. But going on this current film shoot, he doesn't have anybody who really knows him and I guess it all fell apart really fast, pretty much from the first day."

"Do you feel sorry for him? Are you going to take him back?"

"I don't know, Davy. I sure the fuck don't feel sorry for him. He's a grown man with free will and he pissed away his sobriety and his marriage. And as to taking him back, I had already warned him years ago that the first time he cheated on me he was out, we were through. I told him that he knew my history with being cheated on and abused by Nick and that I wouldn't go through that again, and that if he cheated on me, I'd take that as a sign that he was abusing me. He signed off on that, so he had his warning. So he probably knows we're through, even though I haven't told him so.

"So as of this moment, I'm here with you, extending my hand in friendship to you, having rumpy pumpy (or whatever that is) with you. I'm not thinking about Micky. I'm thinking about myself, and I'm thinking about helping you get over me and move on, or figure out if you're really in love with me. I'm not in love with you, Davy. I don't know if I ever would be. But I have always loved you as a friend. I've always had a special place for you in my heart, and I've missed you terribly for all this time we've been estranged. So I agreed to do this for complicated reasons, some altruistic and some selfish – just like you. So can we agree that it's complicated and just be in the moment? And now will you explain to me what my bigmouth husband told you about my predilections about sex so that I can be thoroughly embarrassed?"

Davy smiled and nodded and said "Yes, by all means, let's talk about sex and how you like it." He sidled up to her and put his arms around her waist. He nuzzled her neck and whispered in her ear "You like to be on top. Am I right?"

Gabby was about to cringe and protest and argue but then she realized Davy really just wanted to please her; he wasn't teasing her. So she just nodded and said "Yes."

Davy increased the pressure and suction on her neck, kissing and sucking, licking and biting. He confided in a whisper "When Micky told me about that, I have to admit, I was the one who had to have the sheets changed the next morning."

Gabby giggled. "That must be inconvenient for guys. For once I'm glad to have my reproductive organs and not yours."

Davy got serious now. "Speaking of reproductive organs, let's talk for a second. If you were trying to have a baby with Micky, does that mean you're not on the pill right now?"

Gabby nodded. "Correct. I'm flying without a parachute, so you'll have to suit up, friend."

Davy got up and walked over to a cabinet, picked up a few foil packets and brought them over to where Gabby was sitting. She looked down at them and busted up laughing. He shrugged his shoulders and said "Hey, I'm going to make the most of this night. May as well have too many supplies than not enough." 

Gabby laughed and said "I hope Dawn still keeps bath salts around the house," referring back to the time Peter fucked Dawn so many times in one day she had to soak hourly in the bath to recover. Davy remembered and they both had a good laugh.

Davy put his hands on Gabby's shoulders and said "Now, Gabby, I know you're a talker, but I want to quote the wise philosopher Elvis: 'A little less conversation, a little more action please.'"

Gabby laughed and agreed, "I can get behind that. Okay, tiger. Come and get me." She laid back on the fluffy rug on her elbows. 

Davy hovered over her and began to devour her with his mouth, starting with her mouth, then her neck and descending down her body. Her breasts, her belly, her hips, her legs. He turned her over and kissed her all over on the back of her neck, her shoulders, her back, her butt, and her thighs and calves. He wanted her whole body to be twitching with stimulation.

He raised her up to her knees and moved in close to her, brushing his erection against her pubic bone and belly. Now it was her turn to lay him out and give back as good as she got. She gently took his penis in her hand and tongued and licked it, making sure not to stimulate him too much. Then she nodded and handed him a condom. He put it on and she climbed atop him, lowering herself down on him inch by inch. It felt odd to her, not having had sex with a condom in many years. Davy held out his hands, seeking hers, and she put her hands in his. He was pulling her down to him and kissing her passionately. Then he raised her up and kneaded her breasts and pinched her nipples. 

"Show me how you like it, Gabby. I want to watch you come, I want you to teach me how to help you get there. Show me, help me."

Gabby used her hips and her hands to guide Davy's body, and her words to tell him what to do. He was already very in tune with her anatomy and body, and his instincts were excellent. He just needed to know what she liked and when, how fast, how hard, when to do this and when to do that. Gabby had never been shy about asking for what she wanted, and she decided that there was no reason to start now. Davy wanted to please her and she wanted pleasure. So she led him through every sensation she was feeling, every twitch, every vibration, every tingle. He got so turned on by her taking charge of her own bliss, that he was having a hard time holding back on his own. The minute she started to climax, he did too. They shouted and groaned and moaned together, undulating and rocking and pressing their bodies close together, feeling each other's pleasure take command of the other's body and soul. They were fused in a haze of pleasure that they had made together. It was an extremely intimate moment of partnership. It affected them both deeply. They stared into each other's eyes as they tried to regain their breath, reflecting on the extraordinary moment. 

Gabby spoke first. "Wow."

Davy nodded. "That doesn't cover it. But it will do."

Gabby stayed on top of Davy, enjoying the feeling of him inside of her. She squeezed her internal muscles and he emitted one of his favorite exclamations: "Oooh!"

She kissed his mouth deeply, then his earlobes and neck, then caught his eyes and stared deeply into them. She wanted to know what he was thinking. But she didn't know him well enough to communicate silently, like she could with Micky. That realization made her feel disappointed and a bit guilty, but she shoved it out of her head with indignation and haughty resentment. She had nothing to feel guilty about. And if she chose to move on with her life, she could find that in somebody else with time. It just took time.

Davy picked up on something deep and complicated happening in her mind and asked "What are you thinking about, luv?"

Gabby laughed and responded "I was thinking about how maddening it is that I can't read you yet, that I can't communicate with you wordlessly, like I could with Micky. And here you are, reading me just fine."

Davy smiled. "That's because I've paid a lot more attention to you over the years. I've been watching you out of the corner of me eye for so long, Gabby. I know you better than you think. I just didn't know you physically. That's what's been driving me mad."

"And now? How do you feel now?"

Davy sighed and squeezed her closer. "I feel complete. I feel satiated. Like a missing piece just slotted in. Like you fit with me. I'm inside you right now, and I feel like that's where I belong. How do I feel, inside of you?"

Gabby admitted "You feel good. Very good. I wouldn't just fuck anyone, and I don't feel like that's what we just did. I feel like we were more intimate than that. I'm not sure if we made love, but we didn't just fuck. We created something beautiful, significant, spiritual, as partners in pleasure. That's how it felt to me."

Davy smiled. "I know you cahn't give me what you don't have, but I'll take what you can. That's enough for me. I like that. Pahrtners in pleasure and good friends. Really, Gabby. That is enough. I won't ask for more. But can I keep having the pleasure for a while?"

Gabby said "Davy, I told you that you could have one night. For now, at this moment, that's all I'm inclined to give you. You can ask me tomorrow whether you can have more. Remember my mantra? Keep it in the day, do what's in front of you. Well this day, or rather night, isn't finished, even if you're out of bullets. You don't get to ask me that question until tomorrow. I am not willing to think ahead on this or commit to anything. I don't even have my head straight about my marriage, though I'm pretty straight about how I feel about Micky cheating on me. I haven't changed my values about what he did and how I feel about it. He betrayed me and he's going to pay for it. I don't mean financially, I mean emotionally. I'm not ready to serve him with divorce papers, but I'm definitely leaving him. So what I do with my time while I'm gone is my business, just like what he's been doing while my back was turned is his business. But I'm not filing for divorce yet. That's why I can't make any decisions yet. You see?"

Davy nodded. "I don't really relate because I've never been in that kind of serious relationship, so it's not possible for me to really see. But I'll take what you give me, Gabby. I'll take it until I either get over you or get fed up with you, or you come to me and say you want to be with me and you're leaving Micky for me."

Gabby smiled. "That sounds reasonable. You know, that's the agreement that Micky and I made and he broke it. I told him he could leave anytime he was dissatisfied. The only condition I put on it was that he leave me first before he went out and got laid by someone else. So that's why I don't feel guilty about what we're doing. He broke the rules. He knows it. He broke them twice over. First, by cheating on me, which I told him equaled abuse, and second, by obviously getting dissatisfied with me and not dumping my ass first before he went looking for another female to fuck. I won't call her a woman because she's clearly just a girl. I almost feel sorry for her, but not really. She's just a damned groupie. That's another reason why I'm bitter. That's where Micky and I started. It all started with him chasing groupies. Damn, that stings."

Davy caressed Gabby's cheek with the back of his hand. "I know, Gabby. I'm no angel and I'm sure I'm not qualified to offer you any comfort on the topic, but I can tell you this, I've learned me lesson the hardest way possible. I've ached for you for nearly seven years. I wouldn't do anything to betray you. No matter how this shakes out, I'll stand by you. And if Micky comes sniffing around your door and you need someone in your corner, I'll be there."

"Thanks, Davy. I think we should keep this quiet between you and me for now. Okay? I don't want to complicate anything. Let's just keep this on the down low for now. I'm not ashamed of what we've done, but there's so much at stake, and we have more important things to take care of now. Dawn and Peter need us. Let's get them squared away first before we figure out what's happening with us. Okay? We could use some time to figure out us. Unless it becomes immediately apparent, then I'll have no reservations. I'm no pussy, if you're my man, then I'll own it. But if I have any ambivalence, then it's better to stay silent. So please don't tell anyone. Not even Lynda, okay?"

Davy nodded. "Okay, but don't be surprised if she just figures it out on her own. I cahn't be responsible for that one. She's dead clevah and she knows me like the back of her hand."

"Okay, well if she figures it out, you send her to me and I'll talk to her about it."

"Okay, luv. We'll work it out. Now I have a question for you."

"Yassss?"

"Can I give you a massage? That's another of me fantasies."

Gabby purred, "Yeeeesssss, you can definitely do that."

Davy stood up and lifted Gabby up with him.

"Come with me. I want to bring you into me bedroom for that. Did you know I have a round bed?"

Gabby rolled her eyes. "No, I hadn't heard that. Why am I not surprised that a flamboyant guy like you would have something like that? Where do you buy sheets for it?"

Davy responded "Mail order originally, but eventually I just had the guy who makes me shirts make the sheets, too. They're a lot softer than the ones you can buy."

Gabby purred again, "Mmmmmm, sounds good."

Davy guided her to the bed and laid her out on her stomach. He grabbed some scented oil and poured it out into his hands. As he began to rub it on her, she perceived the smell of lilacs.

"Davy, that's beautiful. Lilacs, yes?"

"Yes, I love that smell. We don't have them here in California. I miss that about home. Lilacs, heather, bluebells, primroses, blue hydrangeas, lots of flowers that don't grow here."

Davy massaged Gabby and they talked of Britain. Gabby asked him questions about his family, his upbringing, what he liked about his country of origin, what else he missed. He ran his hands over her body, giving her muscles a thorough workout like an athlete would get, not just a relaxation massage. "I'm giving you this treatment so that you won't be walking funny tomorrow," he joked.

"Ha! You know, that's not a half bad idea. I don't want to tip off anyone. You've got really good hands. Strong. No callouses."

"When we were making love, were you comparing me to Micky?"

Gabby twitched with surprise and turned to look back at him.

"No, Davy, I wasn't. I was very overwhelmed and caught up in the moment, in the novelty of being with you, in wanting to give you my best and to show you what you wanted to know about me. I also wanted to get out of it what I wanted. I was focused on my own pleasure. Why, did you compare me to Jan, or other women you've been with?"

"Oh no, not at all. I just wondered because you've been with him so long, and like you said, you're still married. I think what made me ask you that was that you just mentioned me fingers don't have callouses, which I assume Micky's do."

"Yeah, he does, from playing guitar and from the drum sticks. I hadn't realized I said that. I guess now that you've raised the topic, my mind can't help dwelling on it, but no, in the moment, I wasn't thinking of him at all."

"And now, have I fucked things up by mentioning him?"

"No. I feel like the Micky I know and love is long gone. I don't know where he is, but he's not inhabiting the corpse who's in Kansas working on that movie right now. He may be gone forever. If he's redeemable and can ever come back, maybe I'd let him back in my life. But that would take a lot of work, a lot of effort, a lot of amends, and I'm not sure whether Micky's got the strength of character to do that. But that's why I'm not going to file for divorce yet. I'm going to cool off for a while to see if when he comes back he wants to go to rehab and get his life back. I feel like maybe I owe him that much. I don't really know. I'm going to go to my therapist and see what she thinks. I don't want to be an abused woman who lets herself be abused again. I need professional help with this. That's another reason why I don't have any answers for you. I don't know what the right thing is to do."

Davy bent forward and kissed Gabby behind her ear. "That's another reason why I love and respect you so much. You always try to do the right thing, even when it costs you something. I'm okay with that. I know you want to do right by Micky, and if he's really just sick, you aren't going to leave him to die in a ditch. Your vows were for better and worse, in sickness and health."

Gabby rolled over and put her arms around Davy's neck. "You know, that's amazing that you said that. I guess you really _can_ read me. I was thinking about my vows recently and I _was_ thinking about the for better and worse ones, but I didn't really think of the sickness and health one. But addiction is like a sickness. I guess I should give him an opportunity to say he wants to get well. But I won't wait for long. I'm not tying myself to an abusive addict. I've already been through that with Nick and it damn near killed me. Thanks for listening to me, Davy, for being my friend, for helping me to understand what I'm going through, for not being selfish and trying to manipulate me to get what you want. I really appreciate your friendship. And I do love you in my own way."

He kissed her and said "I know. Your way is good enough for me. It always will be."

She looked at the clock and saw it was almost 3 a.m. "How about we get some sleep and then pick up in the morning? Morning sex is definitely on the table if you want it, but we'll have to get up very early."

Davy smiled and said "That works for me, as long as it still counts as night for you. You said I'd get all night."

Gabby said "I'm extending the statute of limitations. Let's let my coochie rest and then you can have at it in your favorite position tomorrow. I can't wait to find out what that is." 

Davy smiled and said "Well, I don't have a single favorite position, but I'll just spin the wheel and pick one when we wake up. What time should I set the alarm for?"

"Set it for six. Then we have time for more than one round if we want it."

"Oooh, you are enthusiastic." 

She smiled and "I always say if a things worth doing, it's worth doing right."

They snuggled down in Davy's strange round bed and Gabby slept on her back, not like she would when she slept with Micky. That felt too personal and she wasn't ready to do that with Davy. Odd, she mused, that she just had sex with Davy, but she wouldn't cuddle with him in the same way she did with Micky. Instead, Davy slept on his side with his nose buried in her neck and hair and his arm slung over her.

Before the alarm went off, Gabby awoke to the sensation of something poking her in the back. Or rather, to be accurate, poking her in the backside. She awoke with a feeling of disorientation. She was in an unfamiliar place and couldn't immediately identify it. Then the memories of the night before came flooding back and she was able to surmise what the source of the poking sensation behind her was. It was Davy's flesh making its presence known. She giggled and looked back over her shoulder to find him staring at her with a grin on his face. 

"Good morning, Davy. That's quite an alarm clock. You should market that. You'd make a fortune."

"Ah, production would be impossible, luv. Raw materials are just so scarce."

She reached for the alarm clock and switched it off, then flipped over and faced him. "Well, I'm awake. You have my attention. You're still King of the hill. What's your pleasure? Coffee, tea or me?"

"Mmmm, definitely you." He kissed her deeply, running his hand through her hair and gripping the back of her neck, claiming her mouth with his tongue and lips and holding her head still so that he could plunder her thoroughly. He worked his way down the line of her jawbone, then her neck and sucked at the hollow between her clavicle bones, then snaked his tongue out to tickle it, making her giggle. 

She squirmed as he went lower, kissing her chest and then moving down to cup her breasts with his hands and consuming her nipples. When his mouth left one, his thumb would manipulate it until his tongue could return to it. Gabby moaned and arched her back into him, requesting more pressure and a bit of pain. He was happy to oblige. His hands were now at her waist, holding her still, preventing her from squirming too much. He was holding her still, holding her down, then his hands traveled south again, parting her legs. 

He lifted her knees up to her chest and descended to her coochie, licking and sucking it, nursing her along to bring her to the brink of orgasm. Then leaving her knees in place, he put on a condom and eased himself inside of her, spreading her folds wide open, making sure he was still making contact with her nerve endings with his body and occasionally with his fingers. He glided in and out and would bring himself to the brink, then would stop, withdraw, then bring her to the brink, then re-enter her, then repeat the process. After several minutes of this, Gabby felt like she was slowly descending into madness. Suddenly, Davy sped up and didn't stop and they both went toppling over the edge, again, simultaneously. It seemed a miraculous trick that he had, the ability to make them climax together. He had pinpoint accurate control over both their bodies that absolutely stunned her. She felt like they were surfing a wave of passion together, like it was a partnership that they were sharing. It was a remarkable sensation and she had no words for it. She could only make sounds and grip his back with her fingers and his backside with her heels. 

This time, he was the cheerleader. "That's it, Gabby. Give yourself to me. I want all of you. Hold nothing back. You're mine for this short time. Then I'll let you go. But for now, I want all of you." She continued to pant and moan and gasp, stunned at the sensations her body was feeling, and her mind awhirl with sensations and virtually no thoughts at all. The only words she had were his name. "Davy, Davy, Davy."

Finally, he withdrew, but he didn't leave her be. He slid down and began to lap at her like a cat, soothing her overstimulated flesh and cleaning up her fluids. He let his fingers run through her triangle of hair and trace through the folds of her sex, just lazily exploring and familiarizing himself with her topography in the light of day. She was enjoying the feeling and then suddenly, that tingling feeling was back and she felt the pressure building in the base of her spine. She moaned and squirmed and began to breathe harder again and he picked up on what was happening. He set to work again, figuring out what felt good to her, what would bring her off, and he was a man on a mission. With just his fingers and nothing else, he soon had her heaving with another orgasm, with two of his fingers inserted into her vagina at the last moment to allow her to bear down on him. To Davy's amazement, Gabby had one of her epic, several minutes long orgasms. It continued to shimmer and quiver for so long that he finally exclaimed "Bloody 'ell, I've never seen anything like this, Gabby." She just smiled at him and continued to twitch and pant and clutch her own thighs as wave after wave of pleasure overtook her.

Finally, she heaved one more great sigh and said "Okay, I think it's over. You can have your hand back, Davy." Davy pulled his fingers out and wiggled his hand, trying to comprehend what he had just witnessed. 

"What just happened? Did you just have an orgasm that lasted that long?"

Gabby shrugged her shoulders and said "Yes. I know it's weird. It just happens sometimes. Think I should call the Guinness Book of Worlds Records? It's been suggested."

"No way, I'd be having to fight off the other guys with a stick who'd want you. That's an incredible turn-on, Gabby. Watching you just ride that wave, feeling it inside you. I thought I'd seen it all, but you just showed me there's still a whole lot of living to do."

"Well, I'm glad I could rock your world, Davy." She giggled at the earthshaking effect her crazy orgasm had on him. "Have you had enough? Should we call it a night?"

Davy's face fell but then he tried to recover and look brave and optimistic. "I know you've got your day to live and your body has probably reached its limit. Can I have one more bit of fantasy fulfilled and then I'll let you go?"

She smiled. "Sure, what's that?"

"Will you get clean with me? A shower or bath. Your choice."

She thought about how baths had always been sacred communication sessions with her and Micky, whereas showers tended to be sexual and playful, and said "Let's have a shower. It will not only clean us but wake us up."

He guided her into his bathroom, which had a large shower with a clear glass door and two shower heads. He turned them both on and they stepped into the spray that formed in the middle of the shower. He took up a cloth and some soap and rubbed it gently all over her, carefully cleaning her. She did the same for him. They washed each other's hair as well. Then they stayed in the spray and kissed and caressed each other for a while longer but didn't get any more sexual. It was a farewell, possibly forever, so it was a bit melancholy and also somewhat respectful and reverential. 

As Gabby climbed back into her clothes, she noticed Davy watching her. She left off her panties since they weren't clean and planned to tuck them into her purse. She picked them up off the floor but Davy grabbed them out of her hand and said "Just in case this is goodbye," and set them down on the bathroom counter. She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "As long as you don't blackmail me with them." 

Davy walked Gabby into his kitchen and insisted she sit down and let him make her some breakfast. She accepted, amused at this domestic side of Davy she had never witnessed when he had lived at the Pad. She commented on it and he sassed back "Gabby, I've lived on me own for a while now. You think I haven't learned anything about life? I just was always one to let others do their fair share. And you know, Jan's as modern a woman as you are. She didn't wait on me hand and foot. She made me pull me own weight. I can cook you a full English fry-up if you fancy it!"

"Oh, Davy, that sounds lovely, but I'll take a rain check on that. My system is overloaded with sensory stimulation, if you know what I mean. How about a bagel if you've got one, or toast if you don't? And I won't pass up the chance to have a cup of tea made properly by an Englishman."

Davy didn't have bagels, though he promised to always stock them if she ever imagined herself coming back to his place again, which made her smile, so he made her some toast with butter and jam. As they ate, he asked her about her childhood, since he'd never had the chance, apart from what little he overheard her talking about with Micky when they'd visited Palos Verdes. She was glad he wanted to know her as a person, and she filled him in on her early life, as well as explaining in more detail what had happened with Nick at college. He listened intently, as if he were receiving the instructions to how to find the Ark of the Covenant. He was entirely focused on Gabby, and she could see now that he did truly have an obsession with her, one which probably would not dissipate after this night together. She didn't know how she felt about that, but decided she wouldn't worry about it for now. It was still his problem, not hers. He knew where she stood and was respectful of her position.

Finally, it was time for them to part. Being the true gentleman that he was, Davy insisted on escorting Gabby to her car. She took out her key, then turned around to say goodbye. He approached her and pressed her against the car, giving her one last masterpiece of a kiss as she wound her arms around his neck and ran her fingers through his hair. He used his hands to stroke her breasts and back and neck and butt and everything he could touch, one last time, if that was to be the case. She shivered at his touch and knew that probably part of his intention was to leave her something to think about, to reflect upon, and perhaps to yearn for. Then, after one final quick peck, she said "It's okay to keep hanging around Peter and Dawn's Davy, but for everyone's sake, please be discreet. We don't need a rumor mill running through the family, particularly when all our energy needs to be on helping them through their crisis. Okay?"

Davy nodded and pressed his forehead to hers, as if to signify a literal meeting of the minds. "I agree. I'll do right by you and our friends, Gabby. I won't let me selfish impulses ruin any chahnce we might have for something more, or for you to have peace without me. You're everything to Micky, I know, but you've been a huge presence in me life as well, one I could never sacrifice, and I won't mess it up now."

Gabby smiled and stroked his cheek with her open hand, then got into her car and drove away. As she drove to her old house hoping she had left something behind that she could change into for work, she tried to empty her mind of questions and just focus on feelings and sensations. How did she feel? Certain that she had done the right thing in helping a friend to face his demons. Positive that it hadn't been a selfish act, nor a vengeful one against Micky for his faithlessness. In fact, she felt like it had almost nothing to do with Micky at all, other than the fact that his cheating on her had left her free to allow Davy to have this moment in time with her and heal a great burden and sorrow he'd been carrying around with him for years.

Did she enjoy herself? Hell yeah! Davy was a sensational lover, as advertised and expected for someone with so much experience. But he was surprisingly generous and tender with her. There was emotion there that she hadn't expected, as well as patience and willingness to listen to her talk and process the experience as it was happening. She'd warned him she was a talker and he'd not only let her talk, he'd listened and dialogued back. They'd both learned things about themselves individually and as a pair, be it as friends or a potential couple someday in the future, once she figured out what she was going to do about Micky. In short, Davy hadn't been after a fast fuck. This wasn't just about getting her naked and plundering her body. It was about making love to her and accessing her mind and soul, a surprising approach considering his reputation and unsavory past. 

She knew that for now, logistics made it difficult for them to have a repeat of this night. She couldn't go sneaking off from Dawn and Peter's house with Davy for trysts. The whole point of her being there was to be available to them day or night. That would give her some space and time to work things through in her mind, and it would afford Davy a cooling off period in which he could consider whether he had just been fantasizing over a woman he couldn't have and now cross her off his bucket list, now that the itch had been scratched, or whether he really intended to court her and try to make her his own.

As for her, she couldn't imagine starting a new relationship with anyone, even with such a good friend as Davy whom she already knew well. There were so many intimacies, inside jokes, routines, idiosyncratic habits and practices and history that she shared with Micky. She just couldn't picture life without him. But if Micky had really gone off the rails and was irredeemably vanished to a debauched netherworld, then she would have to accept that and start her life over, and she certainly didn't intend to live life without romance and sex, without a man in her life. If she wanted that in her life, she might as well give a chance to a man who practically worshiped her and was committed to her happiness.

She decided to make no decisions, which sounded oxymoronic, but the most practical approach. She attended her morning staff meeting and then gave a call over to Peter and Dawn's house to check in. Dawn answered the phone and Gabby could tell she had her antennae up.

"Gabby, where did you go last night?"

Gabby tried to sound calm and casual. "I left you a note, didn't you get it? I went back home and slept there. We had a seven o'clock meeting and I felt like I needed a good night's sleep and a quick getaway in the morning."

Dawn replied "Mhmmm. Yeah, right. Gabby, you might have found me catatonic a couple of weeks ago, but my brain's working just fine now, and so's my bullshit meter. When you get home tonight, we're going to have us a girls talk, right?"

Gabby sighed. "Okay, Dawn, okay. But you need to keep your trap shut from this second on. No talking about this with Peter or anybody, and that includes Charlotte and Sebastian or the dogs. Nobody. Ya get me?"

Dawn promised "Okay, I'll go along with that. I just hope you're not doing something stupid that you'll regret or that will hurt you or anyone else."

"Oh, it's bound to hurt someone else. I can pretty much guarantee that, but only if you open up your mouth and let the cat out of the bag, so stop talking about it now and let me get to why I called you. I wanted to know what I can do to be helpful. Is there anything I can do for you on my way home, like an errand or food shopping or picking up dinner?"

"Thank you so much for asking. We're down to the nubbins with toilet paper and I'd give my left tit for some decent Jewish deli food."

Gabby giggled and agreed. "Done. I'll try to get home by six-thirty. In the meantime, there's a box of Kleenex in my room. Use that if you need it. See you later."

She hung up the phone and contemplated with a bit of dread but also relief the prospect of having to bring Dawn in on the secret of her night with Davy. While she guarded her privacy, she could also use an objective opinion, even though she knew that Dawn would not approve of what she had done. Still, having at least one other person to talk to would allow her a safety valve for her emotions, a release for what she was feeling. She reflected that it was also a good sign of healing on Dawn's part that she felt well enough to figure out what was going on and to take an interest in sticking her nose into Gabby's private business. Dawn had been such a lump of apathetic despair when Gabby had first come to the house that she celebrated this amount of progress in her friend's recovery from whatever was pulling her down.

After a dinner of chopped liver and corned beef sandwiches, accompanied by potato salad and half-sour pickles, plus Dr. Brown's soda, everyone was trying to outdo each other in a burping contest. For the first time in months, Dawn was actually laughing, and Peter had tears in his eyes as he watched her enjoy herself. When Gabby burped baby Sebastian after Dawn fed him, everyone cheered and raised their cans of Dr. Brown's and took big swigs to induce more burping.

Bedtime approached and Charlotte began to fuss. She asked why Uncle Davy wasn't there to help her get ready for bed. Dawn fixed Gabby with a beady eye and crossed her arms, waiting for her to explain it to her. That's how Gabby knew that Dawn knew exactly what she'd been up to the night before. Gabby explained to the little girl, "Well you see, princess, Uncle Davy has many other children he has to visit from time to time, kind of like Santa Claus, and he can't always be here every night. He goes to their houses and helps them get ready for bed. And you want them to be happy too, don't you? They are always happy for you when he comes to your house."

Charlotte stopped to consider this concept, of being glad for someone else to have what you most desire, to sacrifice something you want so that others can be happy. A smile lit up her face and she said "Yes, I want everyone to be happy. Mommy's happy now. You make mommy happy. So Uncle Davy can go make other children happy."

It was a moment of purity that Peter, Dawn and Gabby were cherishing. The certainty that children are not born selfish, they are taught to be that way by a wicked world. They are born to be good, if only someone cultivates it in them. Dawn reached over to Gabby and squeezed her hand. Peter said to Charlotte "Anyway, Charly, Daddy's been missing his turn getting to sing you to sleep, so now I'm happy, too. Let's give you your bath and we can sing that rock 'n roll song. Remember what we sing?"

Charlotte thought for a moment and then answered "Splish splash!" Peter nodded "That's right! Splish splash I was takin' a bath!" He led her off towards the bathroom and they sang the Bobby Darin song over and over. Dawn leaned back in her chair and grinned as they walked away, and stretched her limbs in satisfaction that all was right in her world for once.

After Gabby finished cleaning up the kitchen from dinner, she and Dawn went into Gabby's room, with Dawn calling out to Peter she was going to have some girl talk with Gabby in her room and asking Peter to listen for the baby in case he woke up and needed feeding. Dawn sat down on a chair and propped her feet up on the bed, while Gabby sat on the bed clutching a pillow to her middle, both dogs cuddled up to her.

"Okay, girlie, spill. Where were you last night and what were you up to? You don't have to tell me _who_ you were with, because I've already got that figured out. You were with Davy, right?"

Gabby nodded as if her head were attached to a string like a marionette and a puppet master was compelling her to answer. She sighed and said "First of all, Dawn, it's not at all what you think, or at least in my opinion it isn't, though of course you're entitled to your opinion and I'd actually welcome hearing your point of view. An objective eye to this very weird situation might not be such a bad thing. But know this: what I did, I did out of friendship, not spite, nor any of the seven deadly sins, not even horniness."

Dawn gulped as she realized her worst fears were about to be realized. Gabby had slept with Davy. She couldn't imagine how there was an altruistic motivation for the decision to act that Gabby made, but she was willing to hear her out. So Gabby explained the whole situation, starting with her suspicions for years that Davy had deep feelings for her that she had ignored, his confession that night that she had surmised correctly, his plea to her to allow him to consummate his love for her in the hopes of breaking the spell or convincing her that they were meant to be together, and his promise that however she felt about him, it would be enough for him if she would give him that one night and free his tortured soul.

When Gabby had finished describing the evening fairly minutely though not explicitly, as girl code required, she insisted that Dawn not talk about it with Peter. "I know Peter is your husband, Dawn, but I need you to keep this to yourself. This was meant to be a one-night deal. If word gets out about this, it could destroy the family. As it is, I guess we've already lost Jan without her telling us. She broke up with Davy months ago, according to him, and she hasn't been in touch with me. Has she called you?"

Dawn shook her head in the negative.

"Well, so that's one thing. I don't want her to feel like she's lost us if she decides to come back. And then of course there's Micky. I haven't figured out what to do about him."

"I thought you said you were leaving him and that's why you moved in here."

"I _have_ left him, though he doesn't even know it yet. But Davy pointed out something important to me. He said my vows included both for better and worse and in sickness and in health. I think I've more than tolerated Micky's worse by going through rehab with him once, and I warned him years ago that if he ever cheated on me, I'd consider it abuse on the same scale as Nick and I'd leave him immediately, and he agreed to my terms. The worst part of his cheating is that were trying to have a baby, Dawn, so he didn't have any condoms in his possession. So either he had to go out and buy condoms or he is running around riding bareback and risking knocking up young girls. The minute he went out and bought condoms, he already cheated on me. It's like premeditated murder — it's just that much worse. On top of him knowing the trauma it would cause me, he knew I'd know that he was planning it in advance. That's just beyond cruel. So yeah that's for better or worse out the window. But what about sickness and health? If he can get a therapist to convince me that this was a part of his addiction and that he's able to make amends to me, then maybe I shouldn't divorce him so quickly. Davy's the one who helped me see that. So he's not just after me for himself, Dawn. He wants what's right for all of us.

"But the main thing is that I need time to figure this out. To consult my therapist about whether it's safe to allow an abusive husband back in my life. To know what's in my own heart. And I can't know what I want to do with everyone buzzing with gossip. Please don't put me in that compromising position. Please give me the space and time to figure this out."

Dawn looked skeptical. "So does that mean I have to let Davy keep coming around here and court you right under our noses?"

Gabby fumed "Not if it offends your delicate sensibilities, Missy, but I would think a friend who had sex in the backseat of my car while I drove her around would be able to be a little tolerant."

Dawn had the good grace to blush and threw up her hands. "Well played, Gabby. You've got me there. When did I turn into such an uptight matron? I'm sorry. Okay, just do what you need to do, what you feel is right. I'll support you no matter what."

"Thanks, Dawn. That's what I really need. A friend. But what I'd also really like is your objective opinion. What do you think about what I've done?"

Dawn sighed and tried to clear her head and give it her honest appraisal. "Well, taking you at your word that you were trying to help Davy get his head clear and figure out where his heart really was at, and given that technically you were a free agent at the time, I don't think you did anything wrong. I think it was an act of compassion, not ego or lust. I understand why you did it, but you know I've always been a much freer thinker than the average person. Society would judge you much harsher, and Micky probably would not cut you any slack. If he ever finds out about it, he'll probably see it as you cheating on him with his best friend, and he'll probably think you did it to get back at him for cheating on you. He'll probably think you did it to inflict maximum damage."

"You're probably right on all counts. But you know what? I don't fuckin' care about what he believes. If he thinks that about me, then he never really knew me at all. And to be honest, I guess I never really knew him because I can't understand why he did what he did, other than that he's a weak person who went into a situation without his usual support crutches and he jettisoned the few that he had. Maybe he got sick of waiting for me to produce a baby, or maybe this is just one of his famous tantrums but on a grand scale. I always forgave him for his tantrums in the past, but this one involves cheating on me. He knew that was a line he couldn't cross and he did it anyway. He could have done anything else. Not called me for a month, gotten drunk and called me a bitch over the phone or picked an epic fight with me, said something stupid to a reporter that shamed him or me or both — I'd have worked it out with him. But fucking another woman, that's a trigger to my abuse and he knew it."

Dawn crawled on the bed and moved one of the dogs over so she could sit next to Gabby. She put her arms around her and tried to comfort her. Gabby was working up a head of steam and while she was not crying, she was showing the telltale signs of anxiety that she used to exhibit regularly when she had first moved in with Dawn. 

"It's okay, Gabby, you're preaching to the choir. I don't disagree with what you're saying. I support you unconditionally. I won't tell anyone about Davy. Frankly, he might be able to bring you some comfort while you're going through something really tough right now, and I wouldn't deny you that with a guilt trip. I just want to make sure you aren't hopping out of the frying pan and into the fire."

"I get what you're saying. I'm thinking of it more as me giving comfort to him and getting my mind off my own troubles as a benefit of that."

Dawn shrugged her shoulders. "Whatever gets you through the night. So do you know when Micky's coming back?"

"Dawn, for the first time in almost seven years, I don't know where Micky is or what he's doing or what's coming up for him. I've never felt further away from him, even when he was in Australia. When he was over there, at least I knew exactly where he was, who he was with, what he was doing, and that he'd be calling me before I went to bed."

Now Gabby began to cry. It was the first time she'd allowed herself to do it since she suspected something wasn't right after Micky left. She hadn't even cried when she saw the tabloid article with the pictures. She started to take great heaving breaths and exhale messy tears and sobs and drip snot all over herself. Dawn reached for the Kleenex box and started to wipe Gabby's face.

Gabby laughed and observed "Good thing I brought home toilet paper so I've still got the Kleenex. You know, this is the first time I've cried about this, Dawn. What's wrong with me? Does that mean I don't care?"

Dawn shook her head. "No, it means you've been so traumatized that you've been burying the feelings so that you didn't have to deal with them. Are you still seeing your therapist?"

"I wasn't, but I'm going to contact her. I told Davy I was going to. He really did help me sort through some things, Dawn. We talked a lot more than we fucked. I'm glad to have his friendship back in my life. And I could benefit from hearing from a man that I'm woman enough for him, even if he's not the man I want."

"You still want Micky?"

"I want the guy I married. But I fear he's gone and never coming back. I'll give him a chance to explain and to make amends, but it had better be sincere and fairly instantaneous when he gets back. Otherwise, I'm moving on."

"Moving on with Davy?"

"Not necessarily. I told him I don't love him like that and I said I didn't know if I ever could. And even if I did, what would it do to our family if we got together? It might not be worth it if it destroys the family."

"Gabby, I know the family thing has always meant so much to you. Hell, you and Wendy started it and you've maintained it and nurtured it, but let's face it, everyone has moved on with their separate lives and does what they damn well please. No one consults you on whether it would upset you if they did X, Y or Z. So you should just do what's best for you."

A melancholy expression passed over Gabby's face and then a look of acceptance replaced it. She laid down and put her head in Dawn's lap. Dawn stoked her hair and said "Even I lost track of you for a while, Gabby, while I was busy losing myself."

"That wasn't your fault, Dawn. I should have contacted you when I didn't hear from you guys after the birth. But don't worry about it. I'm here now. Will you have a christening and if so, who will you pick as godparents?"

"Should I pick you and Davy?"

"No. Don't go stirring up shit, Dawn," Gabby laughed. "But Davy would make a lovely godparent. I think you should pick him and Lynda. He called her his soulmate. I wonder why he didn't fall in love with her instead of me."

Dawn speculated for a moment and ventured "Forbidden fruit?"

Gabby nodded. "Yeah, that may be it. He did say something about me being the only woman he wanted that he'd never been able to have."

Dawn sucked air in through her teeth and said saucily "Oooooh, girl, you are somethin' else! Well, if it comes to blows between Davy and Micky, my money's on Davy. He's a whole lot of man in a little package and he's kept himself in tip top shape."

Gabby lifted her head from Dawn's lap and affirmed "I can vouch for that," wiggling her eyebrows comically.

"Girlie! You bad! Okay, tell me this much. Was it the best sex you've ever had?"

Gabby just smiled. She tried never to be one who kissed and told. And she honestly didn't know. With Davy, there was no love or depth of history and understanding and shared communication. But from a technical standpoint, it was outstanding. Still, if she had her druthers, she'd turn back the clock and be in the arms of the husband she loved and be making love with him. The problem was, she was pretty sure that man no longer existed.


	25. Chapter 25

It was April and Micky still wasn't home. The movie shoot had actually been over and done with for about a month, but he decided to fly to Florida for what he called a "scouting trip" for entertainment gig opportunities. He and a companion went to Key West and drank themselves into a stupor, but quickly got into an argument and she departed in a huff. Left on his own, Micky wasted no time finding a replacement. This next young lady immediately recognized Micky as a member of the Monkees and was sycophantically wild about hearing him share stories about his old glory days. He found her to be an avid listener, never tiring of yet one more tale over yet another drink. She also loved hearing about his life since the Monkees, and asked him all sorts of questions about his home life. She didn't even mind when he'd cry in his drinks and talk about his wife. She was such a good sport! Her favorite thing was to get all dolled up and have her picture taken with him at a club, or to lounge poolside or on the beach in a tiny bikini and have someone nearby snap a picture of the two in a drunken, friendly embrace.

One morning, he was waiting for her to show up to begin their day, but she didn't show. He figured she was sleeping off her hangover and just went about his day of drinking and lounging. By the time dinner time rolled around and she was nowhere to be found, he figured she had had to leave and wasn't able to find him before she left and he gave no more thought about it. He just started casting about for a new companion, who by the time he had had his second drink at the nightclub, he had spotted and successfully wooed.

Unfortunately, Mick's enthusiastic former companion was in reality a reporter for a national celebrity scandal publication and the next cover story was all about Micky's Key West jaunt. This time, no one had to break the news to Gabby. She was in line at the grocery store buying supplies for Peter and Dawn's house when she saw it herself. She purchased the gossip rag and waited until she got home and unloaded the groceries before sitting down in the living room to read it. She figured there was no reason to hide it from Peter and Dawn, who noticed the cover as they walked by and hovered over her shoulder as she read the article, flipping the pages slowly so that they could all read it together. What infuriated her the most were the mentions of her and his broken marriage. The article implied that she was frigid and demanding and that he had been forced to go outside the marriage to seek sexual gratification. It also implied that Gabby hadn't been willing to give him children, which had caused the ultimate breakdown of their marriage.

That night, after dinner, the phone rang and perhaps unsurprisingly, it was Mike. In his booming, agitated voice, he declared, rather than asking to be invited, that he was coming over to the house and was convening an emergency family meeting. Everyone else would be over shortly. Neither Peter, nor Dawn or Gabby needed to guess what the meeting was going to be about.

Mike and Wendy showed up before the kids went to bed, and they were delighted to finally meet the baby and see how big Charlotte had gotten. Peter asked Mike to help him get Charlotte ready for bed and they dueted on _Splish Splash_ with a distinct country twang.

The doorbell rang again and Lynda arrived with Robert. Davy showed up next. Surprisingly, Jan also presented herself and was ready to join in the discussion. This made Gabby's stomach flop. She could only imagine how Davy felt. She surmised that either Mike or Wendy had called her without realizing that she and Davy had split up, and Jan, out of a sense of duty and affection, had put aside her own personal feelings to be of whatever support she could. She greeted Davy civilly but didn't stand near him or vie for his attention.

After the kids were in bed, Mike called the meeting to order. He threw a copy of the tabloid on the coffee table with disgust and said "If y'all haven't seen this yet, go ahead and read it if you can stomach it, but you don't have to. I can give you the gist. Micky spent several days gettin' drunk and spillin' his guts to a sleazy scandal reporter down in Key West. For all I know, he doesn't even realize what he did. He might not even know about the first story from Kansas that came out. I hear he's stopped callin' you, Gabby, is that right?"

Gabby just nodded.

"And I assume you haven't been in touch with him?"

Gabby shook her head no.

"Okay, well, it's none of mah business how y'all conduct your marriage and frankly I don't blame you for withdrawin' from this mess and protectin' yourself from it, especially given your history." Mike gave her a kind, sympathetic glance. Then he was all business again. "But the fact remains that Mick's spiralin' downward and the bottom's nowhere in sight, and now he's draggin' the Monkees name down with him."

Davy spoke up and remarked acidly "It figures your interest in this only got piqued when it started affecting your own reputation, Mike. Way to be a good friend."

Mike's brows drew down into a menacing V over his eyes and retorted "Well, Davy, you're supposed to be his best friend and this happened on your watch."

Davy jumped up and went toe to toe with Mike. "No it bloody well didn't, Mike. I was joined at the hip with Micky after his recovery from his breakdown and helped him get his shit back together. But I can't make jobs appear out of thin air. And he's a grown man. He had to stand on his own two feet eventually. He's the one who chose to go work on a movie with a porn star surrounded with notoriously bad people out in the middle of nowhere. He didn't need that job so bad he couldn't pass it up and wait for something less dicey. He got cocky and stupid and stubborn."

Peter stood up and said "Alright, first of all, you guys are in my house, and I don't allow bad vibes in here. It's unhealthy for the kids. So simmer down and stop bickering. Mike, I assume you have a suggested plan of action. Let's hear it."

Mike unclenched his fists and sat down on the couch, crossing his impossibly long legs over each other. "Well, I reckon one of us has to go down there and get him. Probably gonna have to scoop him up by the scruff of his neck and drag him back home. He needs help and he's not gonna get it out there. I thought he'd come home after the movie wrapped, but obviously he hasn't had enough of the gutter. One of us has to volunteer to go get him. I think the most obvious person is Davy."

Davy shot back up from his place on the couch and said "Now wait a minute, Mike, I've already done me bit. I've done more than me fair share in fact. And in any case, I don't think he'd listen to me. Nope, there's only one person he's going to listen to at this point and that's you, Mike. He's respects you and maybe in his condition now you could intimidate him."

Mike covered his face with his hands and asked if anyone else wanted to advance another suggestion. Nobody said anything, not even Wendy.

He looked to Gabby in hopes of a reprieve. She said "Mike, you're under no obligation to go get Micky. I'm touched that you care enough about him to call this meeting, or whatever your motives are. I'm grateful because it shows that the family still means something to you, even as we've all taken up separate lives and somewhat drifted apart. That means the world to me. But I do agree with Davy that if anyone could shock Micky out of his stupor, it would be you. In fact, I think if you really want to be effective, it's going to take you _and_ Wendy. She's a force to be reckoned with," she winked at Wendy as she said this "and I think if she hadn't become a music agent, she'd have made a great FBI agent." Everyone laughed and nodded their heads.

Mike sighed and said "Okay, Wendy, do you have anything to say before we all vote on this?" Wendy shook her head in the negative and looked at Gabby with a level, Sphinx-like gaze. "Okay, all in favor of me and Wendy going to Florida and haulin' Micky's ass back to California." Everyone held their hands up. "Okay, we'll do it. I'll stay in touch with Gabby here and at her office, unless you'd rather I don't, Gabby."

"Mike, I'd rather you don't call me until you're on the way home and then I'd appreciate it if you'd call me to warn me you've got him home in his house or wherever it is he's going to be living. Then you don't have to update me anymore. I don't want to know what's going on with Micky once he's home until he comes to me and tells me. I care, but he's put me through hell and he's going to have to earn his way back into my life. I need to protect myself. I don't know what he's like or what he's capable of right now. Not that I fear for my physical safety so much, though there is a bit of that, but I fear for my mental health and my spiritual soul. I can't let him drag me back down to that black lagoon I climbed out of when y'all first met me."

"What are we supposed to say when he asks about you?" Mike asked. "Can we tell him where you are?"

Gabby paused and thought about it and started to breathe heavily. She was having a hard time getting air into her lungs. She realized she was starting to have a panic attack. Her hands began to claw at the arms of the chair she was in, and her vision began to blur. Davy and Dawn both ran to her and tried to calm her down.

Mike's eyebrows rose and then his eyes narrowed suspiciously. He said "Alright, I'll take that as a no for now. If you change your mind, let me know. Okay, I don't want to keep y'all up late, I know you've got the kids runnin' you ragged, so we'll get out of here. Let's try to get together again soon, hopefully under much better circumstances. I'll be in touch with Davy on a day-to-day basis so that someone else knows what's goin' on. Davy, come outside with me so I can have a word with you. Wendy, you wait inside."

Davy rose from his knees where he was bending before Gabby, holding her hands in his, trying to comfort her. He followed Mike out the door, looking back at Gabby with concern.

Dawn led Gabby into her bedroom and laid her down on the bed, then went back out into the living room to bid everyone else a farewell. She had a few words with everyone and exchanged a few tidbits of news and updating status with each person. Jan mentioned that she and Davy had split up. Dawn said she was sorry to hear that, but that she was grateful for Jan's continued friendship and hoped she'd stay in touch. Jan's face was impassive and Dawn wondered what was going on behind the mask she had plastered on. Wendy expressed support and sympathy and asked Jan to meet her the following week for lunch. Lynda stayed silent and just contemplated the possibilities, as she usually did.

When Davy came back inside, he had an angry look on his face. He started pacing around the room, looking for something or someone. Not finding it, he sat down on the couch, put his elbows on his knees and hung his head, steepling his fingers and trying to master his temper. Jan drifted over to him and sat down next to him.

"Hi, Davy. What's got you hot and bothered?"

"Oh, hi, Jan. You know, the usual. Mike's a prick, lecturing me about how to live me life."

"You mean he told you to stay away from Gabby."

Davy shot her a look of shock.

"Wha? Why would you say that?"

Jan tilted her head and said "Davy, I know you. I love you and I've been with you for years. I'm not a dummy. I can read you like a book and I've always known."

Davy tried to skitter away from her insinuation. "Known what?"

Jan put her hand on his arm and sat back on the couch. "That you're in love with Gabby. You always have been."

Davy gave it one last push of deflection. "What makes you think that?"

Jan said "I can't explain how I know, but I know. I could tell almost from the start. Maybe it's the way you looked at her, or the way you avoided looking at her. That tipped me off more than anything else. It was the way you would back away from her when she was around, when she'd say something to you. Like you were resisting her or thought she was dangerous to you. But when she wasn't paying attention to you, I'd see you looking at her, listening to her, honing in on her. She was your north star. I hoped it would fade with time. I thought it had. I really thought you had gotten over her. Maybe you just got better at hiding it. I don't know. Maybe you really convinced yourself you were over her.

"But when you told me you couldn't marry me even though you realized you loved me and that I was a smashing girl, I knew why. There was something holding you back, something you couldn't live with if you married me. Guilt, an obsession, a secret. And I respected you for not going ahead and marrying me and hiding it from me. I'd rather you be honest with me and set me free than to be carrying the torch for someone else and lying to me about it. That's why I didn't make a big fuss when you broke up with me. And that's why I went ahead and came to this meeting. I still care about you and everyone in this room. I guess I'm just like Lynda. Friend or lover, I still want you to be part of my life. You did right by me, Davy. I don't even mind that you didn't come clean with me about Gabby. It would have upset me and embarrassed you. But when I saw you fly to her feet just now, it made me realize that my surmises and assumptions were true. You're still hung up on her and you still love her. Am I right? You may as well 'fess up, Davy. I think you owe me that much."

He hung his head and nodded, then buried his head in his hands and began to cry. Jan put her arms around him and hugged him, and he allowed her to cradle him in her arms and comfort him. "I'm so sorry, Jan. Everything you said is true but it doesn't give enough credit to how much I really did and do care for you. It's just that I promised Lynda I'd reform meself. That I'd never hurt another woman or use a woman for me own gratification alone. I knew I couldn't be everything you needed me to be, with that small part of me pulling in another direction. You've been the best part of me life and I thank you for putting up with me, and I ask you humbly for your forgiveness."

"Davy, you don't need my forgiveness. It's not a sin what you did. You hurt me, but you didn't do wrong by me. I asked you for something you didn't have to give me. But if you feel like you need it, you have my forgiveness. I wouldn't be here tonight if you didn't."

Lynda was watching all of this from across the room and she was pretty sure she knew what was happening and what was being said. She had seen Davy's look of distress when he saw Gabby having her breakdown and knew something had changed in the way he and she related to each other. He had obviously confessed his feelings to her, or he no longer felt the need to conceal them now that he wasn't dating Jan anymore and Gabby was estranged from Micky. She wondered which was the case, and intended to ask him about it when the moment was right. In the meantime, she knew that Jan took priority over Davy's time and attention and she just hung back.

Mike and Wendy were ready to take their leave and Mike came by to say goodbye to Davy, who was still a mess in Jan's arms. He put his hand on Davy's shoulder and said "It's okay, good buddy. It will all be okay. I'm sorry if I stepped out of line. Let's stay in touch, okay?"

Davy glanced up at him through eyes filled with tears and nodded "Yeh, stay in touch. Call me and let me know if you need anything. If you can't handle it on your own and you want me to fly out there, I will, but I really think you're better off without me and I think now you realize why."

"Ayup. Okay, take it easy. Bye, Jan. It was real good to see you. You stay in touch now, you hear me? Don't let the fact that this idiot doesn't know a good thing when he sees it keep you from comin' 'round. You'll always be a part of this family." He hugged her and so did Wendy.

Jan gave Davy one more hug and told him she was going to leave. He thanked her for her support and said he'd like to stay in touch. She smiled and said "That would be fine, Davy. Call me when you've got your head together and you figure out what's going to happen with her. I don't want to be in the way."

Lynda drifted over to Davy and put her arm around him as he tried to pull himself together. "Davy, listen to me. I can tell something's happened. I just want to know one thing. Is it a good thing or a bad thing?"

Davy looked up at Lynda and said "Bloody hell, does everybody know?"

Lynda smiled and laughed. "You kind of gave the game away, chum. I know you were only acting on instinct, but you were as easy to read as that tabloid article. Fortunately, I don't think anyone's going to give you any guff."

Davy shook his head. "You're wrong there, luv. Mike already tore me off a strip outside just now. He's furious with me."

Lynda disagreed. "No, I think he just needs to be in control of every situation and it took him by surprise. Now that the cat's out of the bag, he'll adjust. He could tell he'd deeply hurt your feelings just now. He doesn't apologize for just about anything. But Davy, what have you done?"

"Lynda, I really don't want to talk about it. I told Gabby I wouldn't. Even though now everyone thinks they know what's up, I don't think anyone really does, though it's likely that she's busy spilling the beans to Dawn now. Just let me have me privacy, please? I haven't done anything that Gabby didn't understand and wasn't fully on board with. I didn't take advantage of her and I didn't hurt her. If anything, I'm pretty sure I'm the one who's going to end up in tears at the end of the day."

"Okay, Davy. I'll respect your privacy. But if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here."

"Thanks, luv. I will tell you one thing. I told Gabby you're me soulmate and that's the truth. Thanks for always being there for me. If I can at some point tell you what's going on, I will. Just not right now. I promised."

Lynda hugged Davy and said "I love you, hon. Be good to her. She's fragile."

"I know, Lynda. So am I. She's taking care of me, if I'm honest."

The house had emptied and now it was just Peter, Dawn, Davy and Gabby. Davy approached Dawn and asked to have a word with her. They sat on the couch and he asked her "You know, don't you? It's okay if you do."

Dawn nodded.

"Did she tell you before I came over or did you figure it out just now?"

Dawn squirmed uncomfortably. "Davy, you should ask Gabby. It's the girl code. You know that."

"Dawn, it doesn't mattah. Just tell me."

"She told me before you came over. In her defense, I made her tell me. I figured it out myself. I knew she didn't sleep at her own house last night. I was worried and she didn't want me stressing out, what with all I've been through lately. You know Gabby, she'd lay down her life for her friends. She didn't kiss and tell. Just told me the broad outlines. I know it's about friendship and it's meaningful and it's not seedy or something to be ashamed of. You two are helping each other and I'm not judging either one of you."

Davy's eyes began to water again and he exhaled a breath of relief. "Thanks for being upfront with me, Dawn. So you're okay with me coming over here to see Gabby?"

"Yeah, I'm okay with it. I think you two need each other, but if she doesn't want you over here, Davy, if it gets to be too much for her, you need to back off immediately. You can't be selfish no matter how much you love her and want her. She's incredibly fragile, despite how strong she pretends to be. And you need to be ready for what may happen when Micky gets back. He's going to be a volatile mess. I don't want this place turning into a battle zone. I've got children here to protect. Are we clear?"

Davy nodded. "Yeah, we're clear. Thank you. Can I go check on her?"

"Yeah, go on."

Davy stood up and hugged Dawn, then headed to Gabby's bedroom and knocked on the door. He heard her say "Come in," and entered the room. She was curled up on the bed with the dogs, still sobbing and shaking.

"It's me, Gabby. Is it okay that I'm here?"

She was surprised but somewhat glad to have someone who was keeping an eye on her and following up to see how she was doing. "Yeah, it's okay. Come on in."

He entered the room and looked for a place to sit. He made for the chair but she stopped him and shoved one of the dogs aside and made room for him on the bed. He sank down next to her behind her back and put his hand on her head, stroking her hair and cheek softly, soothingly. Her shoulders were shaking as she continued to cry.

"Gabby, why did you panic when Mike asked you about whether to tell Micky where you are?"

Gabby turned over to face Davy. "I don't know. I just know it freaked me out to think that he might be a monster and he'd know how to find me. I don't know who he is anymore, Davy. And I don't want him to be around me if he's a monster. I've run away from one monster in my life and I don't think I can take it again. Plus, what if he comes over here and he's drunk or high and he hurts the kids? Maybe I need to move out of here and go somewhere else. But I'm here to help Dawn and Peter. I don't know what to do."

Davy said "I know what you should do. You should move in with me."

Gabby said "Davy, I don't know if that would be a good idea. That could be like waving a red flag in front of a bull."

Davy said "Listen Gabby, if Micky's gone mad, he's already a threat to you. If he's going to harm you, then we need you to be safe. And I'm sorry, but Pete is not going to be able to protect you. And you're right, you can't be endangering the kids."

"I could rent an apartment of my own..."

"Yeah, you could do that. Would you feel safe living on your own?"

Gabby began to sob "Nooooooo!!!"

"Right. So you need somewhere to live. Do you want to go stay with Mike and Wendy? Or what about Lynda? Does she have room at her place?"

"Lynda doesn't have room for the dogs. And Mike and Wendy would drive me mad, not to mention I don't think they'd want me there. Wendy and I haven't been close for a long time, and she's always had something against me and Micky. I think she's in her glory, seeing my marriage fall apart."

"So that leaves you with what?"

Gabby sat up. "I need to move in with you."

Davy nodded.

"But what about the dogs?"

"Gabby, you can bring the bloody dogs."

"Can I have my own room?"

Davy's brow wrinkled, then smoothed again. "Yes, you can have your own room. I want you to feel safe and comfortable. I'm not trying to seduce you or take advantage of you. I'm trying to help you and protect you. Listen, everybody figured it out about us tonight. They saw me reaction when you had your panic attack and put two and two together. So we're not going to be fooling anyone. But if you have your own room, at least you can have your dignity and tell folks to piss off and say you're not shacking up with me because we're fucking. Unless that's what you want. And by the way, just so you know, I made Dawn tell me whether she knew about us, whether you told her, and she said she had already figured it out and she made you tell her. I just needed to know so I could ask her if I could stay here and be here for you while you're in this much distress. I wanted her permission to be here. But now it's kind of moot. You'll move in with me. Or maybe you want to sleep on it?"

Gabby shook her head. "No, I don't need to sleep on it. I never need to sleep on things. I make a decision and then I stick to it. That's why I haven't made a decision about you and me. Because once I do, that will be it. But I will move in with you, and I thank you for your offer."

"Right. Okay, should I let you go to sleep now?"

Gabby trembled and shook. "No, Davy, no, please, will you stay with me?"

Davy melted with feelings of love and joy. "Yes, luv, I'll stay with you. Let me just clear it with Dawn. I'll be right back. He bent down and kissed her cheek. He returned a few moments later and said "Dawn's okay with it. She showed me where the bathroom is and I borrowed your toothbrush. You ready for me to tuck you up for bed?"

"Yes, but first we have to let the dogs out. Let's just take them for a quick walk and then we can go to sleep."

They walked the dogs around the block, or rather they walked Oodles. Schmooshy insisted on being carried as soon as he was finished doing his business. They locked up the house and turned off the lights. Gabby asked Davy if he needed something to sleep in and he said he always slept naked. She rolled her eyes and said "Why am I not surprised? Well I sleep in pajamas and that's how it's gonna be, friend."

He laughed and said "You do you, luv. Don't bother with the sexy nighties tonight. I'll wait and see those another time. Just get comfy and let's get in a good kip. We've got work ahead of us moving you out. Can you call out from work tomorrow? I think we'd best get you settled as soon as possible, in case Mike is successful at getting Micky back here quickly."

Gabby shivered and clutched her arms around herself. "Yes, I'll let my office know I've had something come up and I won't be around. Davy, it's going to be okay, won't it? We're not going to cause a shit storm with me moving in with you, are we?"

Davy gave her a pitying look and said "It's possible we will, luv, but that's so low on our list of priorities right now. Your safety is much more important. Your safety and your sanity. Besides, like I told you, pretty much everybody already has figured it out."

Gabby looked shocked and afraid. "Everybody? What, how, who?"

Davy ticked off his fingers. "I made me big mistake when you started freaking out and having your panic attack. I ran towards you and threw meself on you like I was trying to shield you from a grenade. It was just instinct. So did Dawn, but she's your best friend. What right or interest did I have in reacting that way? Unless there were something going on between us. That's the how. Then there's the who. First, Mike immediately took me to the woodshed and hauled me out of the house to yell at me. Then Jan came up to me and shocked me by telling me she had figured it out as soon as she and I had started dating and knew when I said I couldn't marry her that you were the reason why. Then Lynda ambushed me and wanted chapter and verse on you and me and I refused to give it to her, but I did confirm her suspicions and told her you were all in and I wasn't hurting you. Then I asked Dawn what she knew. So who does that leave who doesn't know? Because now Dawn will tell Pete, Lynda will tell Robert, Mike will tell Wendy (if she hasn't already figured it out), and that's the whole family or _mishpucha_ as you say in Hebrew. In fact, the last one to find out will be Micky. Ain't that the kicker?"

"Oh, God, Davy. We're not very good liars, are we? I'm sorry you found out that I told Dawn. I said I wouldn't tell anyone, but she figured it out that I was with you that night and confronted me and wanted to know why. I didn't tell her nitty gritty details. I just explained that it was between friends and that it was beautiful and spiritual. And since she insisted on knowing, that it was excellent." She grinned playfully at him and winked almost imperceptibly.

"It doesn't matter, Gabby. We're our own people. And ever since the first time I met you, I knew you always did things your own way. You've never given a fig for what other people thought. We don't owe anyone an explanation for what we do. We're friends. That's it."

"Friends who've fucked," she pointed out.

Davy laughed. "Well, yeah, that's true, but didn't you have that friend in high school who you took to the cliffs who you fooled around with?"

"Yeah, but I didn't fuck him."

"Okay, but you're a big girl now. You're entitled to fuck your friends. This is getting to be a ridiculous conversation. I think we're both getting punchy. Let's get some sleep."

Davy took off his clothes as Gabby watched him with admiration. He was like a sculpture in a museum. Perfect in every detail. He smiled and slipped into the bed with her. He asked "Want a kiss?" She nodded. He gave her a slow, sensual kiss and then said "Goodnight, luv."

"Goodnight, Davy. Thank you for being here for me." She extinguished the lights and then Schmooshy jumped up on the bed. He insinuated himself between Davy and Gabby, causing Davy to laugh and say "What, does he think he's a chaperone?"

"Something like that. It's amazing Micky and I ever got any baby making done with these two fur babies around."

"God, you're not pregnant now, are you Gabby?"

"No, thank God. I just had my period. I think I would be on suicide watch if I were pregnant. I can't think of a more horrible fate for a child. You know, that's one of the reasons why I told Micky we shouldn't have children. I told him he was too immature, too fragile, and that his lifestyle was prohibitive. Looks like I was right. Even if he ever did ask for me back, I wouldn't have a baby with him. No way."

"I don't want kids."

"Good. That's a point in your favor."

Davy laughed and clapped his hands. "Yeah!"

Schmooshy shnuffed his nose indignantly and seemed to be asking for quiet. They laughed and Gabby said "Shhhhh. Go to bed now. The kids need their sleep. These are the only kids I want."

Gabby turned over and gathered the dog in her arms and clutched him for comfort. She still didn't want to cuddle with Davy, but she felt happy to have him there with her. Davy just curled up any old way and went to sleep.


	26. Chapter 26

When Gabby woke up, on her way to the bathroom she could hear Peter and Dawn arguing quietly in their bedroom. She stopped to listen to their conversation and heard them discussing the previous night's events. Peter was arguing that Gabby needed to find a new place to stay and Dawn was lobbying against that position.

"Peter, she's one of our best friends, besides which, look at how she's dropped everything to take care of me and the kids. She needs us and we owe her!"

"Dawn, I'm the first one to acknowledge how grateful I am to her and how much she's done to help us, but we owe a responsibility first and foremost to our kids and their safety and well-being. We have no idea what Micky's like anymore or what he's capable of. We don't know what his state of mind is going to be like when he comes home and starts looking for her. Eventually he'll figure out she's here and eventually he'll find out she's involved with Davy on some level and he's not going to be happy about that. And even if he doesn't get violent, he's going to be pissed, and I can't have the kids exposed to a pissed off Micky haranguing Gabby in their presence."

Dawn countered: "And what about Gabby? What about _her_ safety and well-being? She's a survivor of abuse and rape, Peter, and she's experiencing flashbacks and is scared of Micky. She needs a safe place to live and friends who will back her up."

"I understand that, Dawn, and my heart bleeds for her. I wish we could be the ones to support her, but we can't. We just can't put our kids at risk. Gabby will understand that. Someone else from the family is going to have to step up and help her, or she's going to have to go it alone. She's a tough customer and a brave woman. She's faced down the whole L.A. police force. She can handle one angry, drunk husband."

"Peter, that's cruel and overestimating her ability to cope with this, and you just don't understand what you're saying. I forgive you for it. But you just don't understand what Gabby's going through."

Gabby had heard enough. She pushed open the door and asked "Can I come in? I think I can save you two some hassle."

They both nodded and Peter started to blush furiously and make squeaking noises preliminary to an apology, but Gabby just held up her hand and said "Don't worry about it Pete, it's cool, I dig where you're coming from and I don't disagree."

Dawn wailed "But Gabby, where will you go, what will you do?"

"Davy and I already talked it over last night. I'm going to temporarily bunk up with him until I can get a read on whether Micky's a threat to me or not. Davy's going to give me my own room and space at his place, and it's all above board, so that should satisfy the family for appearances sake, not that I give a flying fuck what they think at this point but I really would like my own space. I'm not moving in as his lover. He's taking me in as an act of friendship to protect me."

Dawn blew out a breath of relief. "Well, I'm glad you have a safe place to go and someone to look out for you. But you should think about taking out a restraining order, Gabby, if Micky steps one foot out of place."

"Micky's never been violent with me, but then again, I don't think it's Micky who's flying back on that plane. That's why I'm taking precautions, so yeah, I'm hip to the legal protections if I need them. I'm really hoping someone can convince him to go back to rehab and therapy. Then, if and when he gets clean, he and I can talk about the state of our marriage. But anyway, I don't want to burden y'all with that stuff. One thing that concerns me, though, is that I'm leaving you high and dry when you need my help. Can I still come over and bring over the shopping and food for dinner and help with the kids?"

Dawn looked hopefully at Peter, but he sadly shook his head no. "Gabby, we'll always be grateful to you for what you've done and maybe you can come back soon, but until we get a look at Micky and figure out what his state of mind is and how bad off he is, I don't want to risk him coming over here looking for you and starting up a battle in front of the kids. I'm sorry."

Gabby sank down on the bed and began to cry. Dawn sat next to her and cradled her in her arms, while shooting Peter a glare of consternation. She reassured her "It's okay, Gabby. I'm really doing a lot better. Now that Wendy hired me that girl to help me, things have gotten easier, and my doctor recommended a therapist so I'll be going to see him when the helper comes over on one of her days. And I'll ask Jan if she can give me a hand. I know she'll be happy to step up. It will make her feel included and wanted and still part of the family. Now that she's not saddled with looking after Davy, she's got some time to spare." She laughed, just as Davy poked his head in the bedroom door and said "That's charming, that is. You ask Gabby — I do me own cooking!" Dawn blushed a bit for slagging on Davy behind his back, but she rolled her eyes and there was no tension in the air between them.

Davy walked over to Gabby and put his arm around her, pulled a hanky from his pocket and offered it to her. She took it and started to dry her eyes. She looked bereft, ashamed, and scared.

"I'm sorry, y'all, I'm starting to crumble. This isn't me. This isn't the strong woman who's leading a national woman's organization. I think it's just the thought of Micky coming home and my not knowing what to expect. I don't know who he _is_ anymore. I don't know what other terrible things he could do to me, so I'm making up worst case scenarios in my mind. I never in a million years thought Nick would get violent with me, but he did. Micky's never been violent or even raised his voice to me, though he's said hurtful things, but somehow I'm catastrophizing and expecting an abusive violent drunk to step off that plane and come running after me to try and reclaim me. Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe he wants nothing to do with me. Maybe he's happy to be free of me and all he wants is to come home and set up shop in that house we shared and start hosting drunken orgies." Davy shivered at a long-buried memory of the low point of his groupie groper days.

Dawn advised "Gabby, I think both you and Peter are wise to plan for the worst and that way you'll be pleasantly surprised if things go better, but you'll be maximally protected if things go horribly wrong. I'm glad you'll be with Davy. He can more than handle Micky, both physically and verbally."

Davy eased Gabby up off the bed. "Aye, that I can. Now we've got a lot to do today. We're going to move all of Gabby's stuff to my apartment. I'd like to do it in one go if I can. Pete, do you know anyone with a van who could loan it to you so you could help us?"

Pete said "Yep. I'm on it. If there's one thing this neighborhood's chock full of it's vans and buses. Let me make some calls."

Dawn heard a cry from the nursery and went to answer it. Gabby and Davy returned to her room to fetch the dogs and take them out for their morning walk. As they strolled through the neighborhood, Gabby said with a melancholy tone, "I'm going to miss this place. I was happy here. Lovely trees and scenery, great neighbors and a real sense of community. But it can never be what it was. Same thing with the Monkees, I guess. Things just come to an end and you accept it and move on. I think I'm starting to understand how shattering that had to have been for Micky and the rest of you guys. But he's always been the delicate one. Even though Peter was the first to go, Micky was always needing looking after, at least for the time I knew you guys."

Davy cast his mind back and said "You know, Micky _nevah_ needed looking after until he met you. Peter was like this innocent child who we all took care of. But when he met Dawn, she turned him into a man. When Micky met you, it's like he regressed into a child. I wasn't very sympathetic to him about it until Lynda yelled at me and told me to support him. I guess that was when I first started becoming human."

Gabby was less interested in Davy's personal growth story than the idea that Micky had regressed when he met her. "Why do you think Micky became such a basket case after he met me?"

"Maybe because you gave him permission to experience feelings he had been suppressing for a long time but hadn't dealt with. He saw what you went through, saw you openly talk about it and navigate your way through it and around it, and you gave him permission to be who he really was. What I'm saying, Gabby, is that Micky's got character problems just like we all do. Mine are readily evident, and I needed Lynda's help in getting over them. Micky had his own and he had you."

"But he was on the road without me for months at a time and he was okay. I was so impressed with the amount of growth he experienced, it's what convinced me to marry him and have a child."

"Yes, that's true, but he had us fellas backing him up when you weren't physically there and he kept in touch with you by phone. I think this is just the first time in Micky's whole life when he didn't have any of his touchstones, or I could call them crutches if I were feeling less charitable, which I sort of am. So Micky tried to go it alone with this latest movie job and he failed. First time and he failed. But I just worry that if you give up on him right now, he may be lost forevah. We may never get him back. I'm not saying you should go back to him. I have every reason in the world not to want you to do that. But I think the rest of us have got to try to get him the help that he needs and see if he can find his old self again and then see if he's willing to try to make amends to you. Then you can figure out what to do with your life. Sound reasonable?"

"Incredibly reasonable. And unselfish. Thank you, Davy."

"Sure thing, Gabby." He reached for her hand and she gave it to him; he squeezed it gently, then released it.

So Peter, Davy and Gabby were able to move all her and the dogs' stuff into Davy's apartment in one haul, and Davy established her in his guest bedroom. Gabby was relieved to see that it had a normal-shaped bed and plenty of room for the dogs to sleep with her at night. Davy was respectful of that room, treating it as Gabby's private space, and never entered it without knocking, even if the door was open. She appreciated this line of demarcation between them. The last thing she needed right now at this hugely stressful time was to deal with starting up a love affair with Davy. For now, he seemed to sense without being told that she needed his friendship first and foremost and that that was all she could give him in return.

The phone rang that night and she noticed Davy took the call in his bedroom and shut the door. She assumed that meant it was Mike calling and Davy was shielding her as she had requested from knowing any details until Micky's return was imminent. When he emerged, she looked at him but he just shook his head and said nothing. She gave him a tight smile and a nod of thanks.

He changed the subject, saying "So I recall from that first trip to Palm Springs that you like to play backgammon. Fancy your chahnces playing me?"

Gabby grinned and said "Not at the stakes Micky and I were playing for, but if it's just a friendly, then okay."

Davy pursed his lips into an O and said "Okay, I know you don't kiss and tell, but you put the topic on the table. Wanna share the details?"

Gabby grinned and said "No I don't! No specifics. But let's just say that it was obviously sexual in nature, and I lost. Though to be fair, in the end, he eventually did give me what I had asked for and lost. Micky was a good sport."

Davy giggled. "Someday, if you're ever mine, Gabby, I'll give you anything you want."

Gabby rolled one die to see who got to have the first play and said "Yeah, yeah, yeah, they all say that and then they go and fuckin' abuse you."

Davy looked up sharply. "Do you really believe that, Gabby? Do you think I'm just like them?"

Gabby put her hands to her mouth and gasped "Oh, God, Davy, I can't believe I even said that! NO, I don't think you're like them. You've given me no reason to think that. I was just vocalizing how jaded and disappointed and ill-used I feel in general. Please don't take it personally. I'm so sorry. I'm getting all mixed up with who you are. Are you Davy-friend or Davy-lover, or I guess that would be Davy who wants to be my lover. Please forgive me. I was talking to you as Davy-friend."

Davy nodded and seemed to comprehend. "I get it. I shouldn't have said something flirtatious like that to you right now. I need to back off. What you need right now is a friend. You need Davy-friend, right?"

Gabby nodded and said "Yes. That's who I need. If that changes, I'll let you know. I think in light of what you were suggesting for me to give Micky a chance to straighten out and come clean with me, that would be the best thing for both of us. Unless I get sick of waiting for him or it looks like he's just not going to straighten out. Then we can revisit it."

"Right. That's settled. Okay, friend. Prepare to get your ass kicked at backgammon!" The rest of the night was spent in companionable chit chat over game and after game of backgammon. Davy accompanied Gabby for her last walk with the dogs and the two canines got high over all the new smells they were experiencing. It was hard to get them to walk back towards the apartment building.

They compared schedules for the next day and coordinated a makeshift routine for who would shower and use the bathroom when. Then they bade each other goodnight with a hug and a chaste kiss and one each for the dogs from Davy and everyone went to sleep.

Gabby tried hard not to think about how topsy-turvy her life had become, and to just focus on what was right about it. She was living in a safe place, the dogs had room and were happy with their temporary home, the family were looking after her and Micky, and she had an appointment lined up for the next day with her therapist. So she had as much support in place as possible. She finally was able to let her guard down and drift off to sleep.

Gabby's therapy session was inconclusive, other than to affirm what had already occurred to her about how she felt about Micky's betrayal, that she'd be justified in simply walking away from him. But the therapist did say that if she felt so inclined, it would be a brave and possibly rewarding experience to allow him the time to clean up his act and try to reconcile with him. She called Davy to see if he wanted her to bring him anything home to eat and he suggested they eat out. She agreed and said she'd be at his place to walk the dogs first and then they'd go out.

They went to a Mexican restaurant, Gabby's version of comfort food. Gabby decided to just enjoy herself and not worry about what felt like impending doom, so she ordered a shot of tequila. This helped her loosen up and forget her worries for a little while. She and Davy talked about their day and what they'd done, and she reflected on how long it had been since anyone had taken an interest in the quotidian details of her life. It had been months now since Micky stopped calling her and she didn't speak to any of her friends regularly. She realized that she was lonely.

"I need to get me some more friends, Davy! You're the first person in ages who's asked me how my day was. That can't be right. I shouldn't have to have a man in my life to have someone give a damn about my day. When it was us three girls living together, we'd always talk about our day. I miss that."

Davy thought she was on to something. "I think you've got something there, Gabby. It shouldn't be that your romantic partner is your whole world. Maybe you need to find some more girlfriends who aren't either clinically depressed or a bitch on wheels."

They both cracked up at this characterization of Wendy.

"I'll tell you one thing, friend," Gabby asserted. "I'm not doing enough for others. I oughta be doing more for charity, for the less fortunate. And damn, what's going down in Washington with this Watergate story, I think that's going to be a big deal for the Democrats! Maybe I need to find a candidate to support. The main thing is, I gotta get my head outta my ass and stop thinking of myself so much. I gotta go where the fishes are!"

Davy tilted his head in bewilderment. "What fishes? What does that refer to?"

"That's something Micky's dad told him he did when he was between jobs in Hollywood. He meant you have to make your own opportunities and not wait around for something to drop in your lap. I'm sure that's what Micky thought he was doing, taking this job on this cursed movie. He thought he was taking his dad's advice. That made me so sad."

Davy took her by the shoulder and said very firmly "Gabby, don't do this. Don't get maudlin over Micky's bad choices. Micky's dad nevah told him to go do a porno movie and he nevah told him to throw out the habits he had established of calling you every night when he was on the road. He had systems in place that should have carried him through the shitty decision he made. He was the one who cut the cord to all that was tethering him to sanity and morality. Even if he'd been getting drunk every night, if he came home to his hotel room and called you, he'd have made it through the shoot and you wouldn't be headed for divorce court."

"I don't think that's where I'm headed, Davy. I talked to my therapist and she said it couldn't hurt me to try to let Micky reconcile with me. She thinks I'm strong enough to handle it. I'm going to give him a chance."

Davy nodded. "Okay, then I'll support you. But he's got to dry out and get human first, right? That's what you said. I can't let him harm you, Gabby. I just can't hand you over to him if he's not dried out."

"Of course, Davy. I won't even go back to him if all he is is dried out. He's got to be sober, as in recovering from his addiction and working a program of recovery. My therapist explained to me how Alcoholics Anonymous works and I want him to agree to join that program and work with those folks. Otherwise he's too liable to relapse and I'll never be able to trust him."

"Okay, it sounds like you have a good plan in place. Let's just see what he does. I've always loved him like a brother, but I wouldn't be surprised if he picks the bottle and an endless supply of loose women over something as difficult as recovering and going back over his life and righting wrongs. And I'm only willing to give him the benefit of the doubt for a limited amount of time before I see him as a threat to you and treat him as such."

Gabby wrinkled her brows and frowned at Davy. "Davy, that's very sweet, but it's also very 1950s. I may be traumatized and in need of your support, but you don't get to dictate the terms of my interaction with Micky. I'll decide about that. Of course I will keep the lines of communication open with you, but I'm in charge of my own affairs when it comes to my lawfully wedded husband. Are we clear on that?"

Davy made two fists and his face turned red. "And what am I supposed to do as he's busy dumping all over you, or God forbid knocking you around?"

Gabby put her hands in Davy's and peeled his fingers loose from their clenched positions. "Davy, I won't make myself a victim, and of course I'll come to you if I need you. You can count on it." She opened his hands all the way and put her flat palms on his. "Okay?" she tried to soothe him. He just looked away, clenched his jaw and nodded.

As they walked back to the apartment building, she slipped her hand in his and he interlocked their fingers. They both knew they were treading a fine line. Davy couldn't get so overprotective of Gabby or jealous of Micky that he became another burden on her emotions and spirit. And Gabby couldn't conciliate Davy so much that it blurred the boundary line she had set that for now they were going to just be friends with no romantic entanglements. Still, there was affection, both emotional and physical. It was a tricky mix. They both were aware of the volatility of the situation and each backed off to their own corners when they got home, until it was time to take the dogs for their last walk. They said goodnight and hugged and kissed as they did the previous night, and retired to their separate rooms. This night, Gabby tried to block out the concerns she had about what would happen if Davy and Micky ever locked horns over her. It was too horrible to contemplate.

Gabby was awoken before her alarm clock by the sound of the phone ringing. Davy answered it and she could hear him say "Hi, Mike." While she tried not to listen, she could gather from the short, declarative sounds of his end of the conversation that some sort of details or arrangements were being conveyed. She confirmed this surmise when she saw Davy emerge from his bedroom with a piece of paper in his hands.

He took hold of her hand and sat her down on the couch. He put his hand on her cheek and stroked it. "Are you ready to hear what I just spoke about with Mike?"

Gabby nodded wordlessly.

"Okay. Mike and Wendy are flying back here today with Micky. They'll have him home by dinner time. They're bringing him to their house for a while. They didn't specify how long. That's a good thing, Gabby. A really good thing. He won't step an inch out of line with those two looking after him. That's the basics. You want to hear more?"

Gabby's emotions warred with her mind. She surely ought to know what the plan of action was going to be to get Micky back on his feet. But she had said she didn't want to be at all involved with or cognizant of what he was doing once he was back home. She'd said it out of fear and anger, she realized. Now that she had decided she'd wait and give Micky his shot to redeem himself, she felt she ought to know what steps he was taking to get there.

"Okay, tell me the rest."

"So while Micky stays with Mike and Wendy, they're going to look into rehab places for him. Maybe the place he went to before..."

Gabby cried "No! Those are the idiots who told Micky he could still drink, that he wasn't an alcoholic! You tell Mike that Micky needs to go to a rehab that uses Alcoholics Anonymous and total abstinence as its model. Micky's an addict and he can't handle any sort of drinking or drugging."

Davy nodded. "Okay, I'll pass that on to Mike. They need to find a place for Micky to rehab, not just dry out. Then it will be up to him what he does next."

Gabby was rocking back and forth with her arms tucked around her. "Okay, thanks, Davy. Please make sure you tell Mike my preference for the rehab for Micky. Did Mike say whether Micky has the money to pay for it?"

"Yeah, fortunately, one thing Micky's still responsible about is money. He's got plenty of dough. So that will be another advantage. He doesn't have to go out and find a job right away.

Three days later, the phone rang at Davy's around nine at night. Gabby could hear his voice raised as he spoke to the person on the other end of the line, mostly consisting of epithets such as "Motherfucker!" and "You must be joking!" Suddenly, he came out and knocked on Gabby's bedroom door. She bade him enter and he sat down in the chair at the foot of her bed.

"What is it, Davy? What's going on? I heard you shouting."

"Gabby, we have a situation on our hands. A rotten, dirty, shitty situation. And you're going to have to make a decision I know you don't want to make."

Gabby stiffened and asked "What decision?"

"It's Micky. Mike found a rehab place for him. It's just what you wanted and the paperwork's all set, the payment's been made and they're holding a bed for him. But he's refusing to go until he sees you."

Gabby went pale and then just a shade greener.

Davy hurried on. "I know, I know. It's disgusting. It's a non-starter, yeh? I mean, he's got a hell of a nerve, holding you hostage like that!"

She looked at Davy with the tears beginning to fill her eyes and her body began to tremble. He vaulted from his chair and ran to her side, sat down next to her and enveloped her in his arms. Rocking her back and forth gently, he said "It's okay, Gabby. You don't have to do it. I just wanted to give you the information. I know you don't want to do it."

"But what if he won't go, Davy? This is his only shot. He can't get sober on his own, and we all know it. He's going to die an early death if he goes on like this. Micky is like a little boy. He needs looking after, and who's going to do that for him? His Hollywood Vampire friends? His tramps and groupies and underage victim girlies?"

Davy argued "Where's his _real_ family in all of this?"

"I don't know. I've never been close to them, but I hardly think they have any sway over him. He's a grown man who became the man of the house at age seventeen when his dad died. They think he's got good judgment and can take care of himself. They're not in a position to intervene. He's barely spent time with them since he became a Monkee."

Davy put his hands on Gabby's shoulders and held her firm, boring into her eyes with his own intense, chocolate brown stare. "Gabby, you can't knuckle under to this. He's just manipulating you one more time, jerking your chain. If you go see him, you're enabling his ego and his sickness."

Gabby nodded. She asked "He's at Mike's, right? Let me call over and speak with Mike."

Davy gave her a doubtful look but nodded his assent. He brought her to the phone in his room and gave her the address book opened to the page with Mike's number. Mike picked up on the first ring.

"Davy? What did she say?"

Gabby smiled and said "Hi, Mike, it's me, Gabby."

Mike sounded shocked. "Oh, hey, um yeah, um, I'm just gonna change phones. I'll call you back, okay?"

She hung up and waited for him to ring her back.

A minute later, the phone rang. Mike said "Hey, Gabby. I didn't know you'd be calling. I wanted to make sure he didn't hear your voice so I went to my study and locked the door. Okay, so why are you calling and not Davy?"

"I wanted to get the info direct from you about what Micky said. What exactly did he say about why he wouldn't go to rehab, and how did he say it?"

"Well, he said 'I can't go to rehab without my Gabriella,' and I said 'First of all, don't be so sure she's still yours, Micky, especially if you don't go to rehab, and second of all, she doesn't want to see you before you go. She specifically asked me to leave her out of it and make all the arrangements.' That's the whole conversation we had."

Gabby sighed and tried to parse out the short sentence Micky had spewed out. It wasn't as dire or as stubborn as the two guys had made it sound, and Micky wasn't as intractable as they thought. He was just fucking scared. He just needed reassurance that it would all be okay.

"Okay, Mike. Go ahead and put Micky on the phone. I'll speak with him."

Davy rushed over to Gabby and was about to question her decision, but she forestalled him with a stiff arm to hold him back and shooed him away.

She heard the receiver change hands and then she heard Micky's voice for the first time in months. It was gravelly and worn and tired and meek.

"Gabby? Is that you? It's me, Micky."

"Hi, Micky. Yes, it's me, Gabby."

"Hi, my Gabby. It's so good to hear your voice. I have so much to say..."

"Save it for when you're feeling better, Micky. Then I'll be ready to hear it and you'll be able to say it much better. For now, I want you to listen to me. I want you to go to the rehab place that Mike is going to take you to. I helped him pick it out and it's just the right place for you to get better. It's what I want and it's what you need. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, but Gabby, can I see you before I go? I need to see you, I can't do this on my own."

"Micky, you aren't doing it on your own. You have the whole Monkees family helping you. We had a family meeting and this is the plan we came up with for you. We're all doing our part to help you."

"But why can't I see you?"

"You can't see me, Micky, because I don't want to see what you've become. I want to only have in my mind a picture of the man I love and who I married, and right now, you're not that man. You need go to rehab and see if you can become that man again. After you do that, maybe I'll see you."

"Maybe, not definitely?"

"Maybe. You're going to have to work really hard, Micky, and then you're going to have to convince me to want to see you. You're going to have to woo me all over again, like you did before. Remember?"

"Yeah, I remember. You were plenty stubborn the first time around."

"Right, so this should not come as a surprise to you."

Micky attempted to laugh but it came out as more of a whimper. "Can I contact you while I'm at rehab?"

"No, Micky. I don't want to hear from you until you're done with your aftercare. I want you to be strong and healthy and living your life with integrity. I want you to be ready to make amends to me. Then we'll talk about seeing each other. I haven't closed the door on you and I'm not saying I won't see you. I'm just telling you that I'm scared of you right now because of what you've done, because you knew that what you did would trigger the trauma from my past. You've inflicted abuse on me by cheating on me. I warned you that would happen if you ever cheated on me. Do you remember us talking about that in the past?"

Micky's voice was dripping with shame. "Yeah, I do. Gabby, I'm so sorry..."

"I don't want to hear your apologies right now, Micky. They don't mean anything right now. Say them to me when you're sober and in recovery and living your life right. Then I definitely would like to hear them. But remember what we always have said? We've got to walk before we run, take baby steps, stick to the plan. So the first part of the plan is that you go to the rehab that Mike and I have picked out for you. Then you do whatever aftercare you need to do. Then you work with the folks at Alcoholics Anonymous and you start living your life the right way. Then we can get together and talk. Okay?"

"Okay, Gabriella. I'll do what you say because you've never steered me wrong. You've always been strong for me when I was weak. And I've been so incredibly weak, my Gabby." He started to cry.

"Micky, hand the phone back to Mike now. Goodbye for now. Take care and be well."

Mike got back on the line and exhaled a sigh of relief. "Well, it sounds like you've got him pointed back in the right direction. Do I take it he's gonna go to rehab without seein' you?"

"Yes. And I think he'll be cooperative. Just get him there pronto, Mike. Tonight if you can manage it. I think he's on the verge of a breakdown. Please ask them to keep an eye on him for suicide attempts. He's really on the ledge because I won't come see him. But it's the right thing to do. If I come see him, he'll just keep manipulating us all and he'll never get better. The cycle's got to stop right now. Thank you, Mike. Please call us back after you've dropped him off to let us know how things went."

She hung up the phone and looked at Davy for feedback on how she had handled things. Davy silently nodded his head with approval. She held out her arms for a hug and he granted one, squeezing her tightly and kissing her lightly on the cheek.

"You're as brave as a lion, Gabby. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, Davy."


	27. Chapter 27

It was the run up to Christmas, and Davy was trying to figure out what to do. He had been planning to fly home to Manchester to see his sisters, but he'd heard a rumor that Micky had finished his rehab and aftercare and had started asking around about where Gabby was living. He was afraid to leave her alone, for fear that Micky would find out where she was domiciled and blow his stack. 

"Gabby, come to Manchester with me for Christmas. It's just a short jaunt and then you can get back to your job. I don't want to leave you behind. It's too dangerous."

Gabby considered her options. She too didn't want to be left alone in Davy's flat by herself, but she was worried about what would happen if Micky found out that she had flown to Davy's hometown with him and jumped to the wrong conclusion. She raised this as a counterpoint and asked Davy what the consequences would be.

Davy scratched his chin and said "Yeah, that's true, that's kind of a declaration of a sort, even if it isn't true." Gabby and Davy hadn't had any sort of sexual contact in all the time she'd been staying in his apartment. 

Gabby suggested "Maybe we ought to convene a Christmas party for the whole Monkees _mishpucha_ before you leave, and then I can go stay with Mike and Wendy. I'm sure they could tolerate me and the dogs for the few days you're gone."

Davy frowned "But that would mean you'd be seeing Micky!"

Gabby nodded. "Maybe that's the best way to see him the first time. In a setting where he can't get all hot and heavy with me. Where he's got to be polite and neutral and just make chit chat. It could be a good icebreaker."

"Well, okay, if you say so, but if I detect any sort of hinky vibes from him, I'm cancelling my trip home and you're staying put right here where I can keep my eye on you."

Gabby smiled at Davy's overprotectiveness and proprietary attitude towards her. It was still tinged with lovesickness, but it was more laden with friendship and the investment of half a year's careful watch over her.

"I'll call Dawn and ask if we can have the party at her place. That way they'll have their kids there for everybody to love up and they won't have to do anything. We can arrange the whole thing and they'll just be there for it."

Gabby phoned Dawn and was happy to find that Dawn was on board with the plan. She had been able to revert to her routine of helping out while Micky was away in rehab, and Dawn was beginning to heal. Dawn and Gabby divvied up the list of people to call and surprisingly, there were no regrets offered. Everyone RSVP'd yes, including Micky, whom Mike called.

The party was to be held on December 22nd, a Sunday, so that Davy could leave the next morning for the UK. Lynda and Jan attended to the food for the party – just like old times – and Wendy took care of decorations, her glory and favorite part of being attached to non-Jews. Davy and Gabby went over to Peter and Dawn's early Sunday morning to attend to cleaning the house and making it party-ready. They spent the day playing with the kids and letting the dogs run free in Peter's yard. By 4:00 p.m., everybody started arriving. Micky was the last to arrive, and Gabby was on pins and needles waiting for his ring at the doorbell. 

When he finally did arrive, he had barely made it through the front door before both dogs hurled themselves at him. This time, they had no questions about who he was or what he smelled like. They knew it was papa and were ecstatic to see him. They yipped and jumped and capered and did zoomies around the room, then jumped up on him to command his attention and licked his face, then pushed each other out of the way to vie for the space on his lap. They were beyond thrilled to see him.

Everyone else in the room laughed at the comically epic welcome he was receiving, then one at a time attempted to give him at least a warm welcome, despite his having forsaken and shamed the group and its most beloved member so thoroughly. It may have been because they were imbued with the Christmas spirit, but everyone seemed willing to let bygones be bygones. All except for Davy, who stood aloof with his hands on his hips and his giant dark eyebrows in a crinkle of consternation and suspicion, and Gabby, who cowered and hung back with apprehension and a bit of fear. 

Micky spotted Davy next and approached him with his hand out. Davy shook it stiffly and resisted somewhat when Micky tried to pull him into a hug, until Lynda caught his eye over Micky's shoulder and frowned at Davy and then Davy relented and hugged Micky back. He mostly did it so as not to give the game away that there was anything going on with him and Gabby. 

Then Micky scanned the room and saw Gabby standing nervously next to the Christmas tree, camouflaging herself a bit so as to observe but not be seen. He picked up on her nervous vibes and just nodded his head at her and smiled and waved. She waved back and stayed where she was. He fell into conversation with Robert, who was standing next to him, and accepted a soda from him. 

Dawn scurried over to Gabby and put her arm around her, leading her out of the room and into the master bedroom. Gabby sat down on the bed and shook and rocked back and forth with her arms wrapped around her. She was beginning to hyperventilate.

"Dawn, Dawn, I don't think I can do this," she moaned and gasped.

"It's okay, Gabby. It's okay. Remember what your shrink had you do before when you first moved back here after you left Nick? Exposure therapy. So now you've been in the same room with Micky. That's enough. You don't have to go back out there. I can explain it to him if you want, but I think he's already figured it out for himself. He is your husband and he knows you very well. He knows he's hurt you deeply. He won't take it personally, and if he does, he deserves all the hurt he feels. Okay?"

"Okay," Gabby gasped out between huge intakes of breath as she struggled for air. 

"Now you just lie down on the bed and I'm going to shut off the lights and close the door. You want me to bring you one of the dogs?"

"No, Micky's been without them for so long. Let him be with them. He needs them."

"Girlie, you always put other people before yourself. One day, that's gonna catch up to you. Okay. Now crawl under my covers and just close your eyes. Take a little rest."

Dawn left Gabby and returned to the party. She smiled and interacted with her guests, then waited for an opportune time to pull Micky aside. He smiled wanly and said "It was too much for her, wasn't it?"

Dawn nodded her head. "Yeah, she's a mess, Micky. It's going to take some time. Please be patient and don't take it too personally. Leave your ego aside and consider how she's feeling above all, please?"

Micky looked at the ground and nodded. "I deserve every shitty thing anyone says or thinks about me, Dawn, but I would never put my ego above her mental health. I did that once and I've ruined both our lives. I won't do it again. Please tell her it's okay and I hope I'll see her again sometime soon. If it needs to be in another group setting, that's fine. I take it that's why you had the party in the first place."

Dawn nodded her head. "Well, mostly, although you know Gabby. The family is everything to her. She wanted us all to be together for the holiday. She's moved heaven and Earth to keep us all together. Even when Jan and Davy split up."

Micky's head whipped up and his eyes widened. "They're not together anymore?"

Dawn gave a mental slap to her forehead and wished to God she could take that sentence back. Micky did not need this extraneous information to get the cogs of his mind working and connecting the dots.

"Uh, well, yeah, they're not together anymore. They both called it off. They just weren't suited for each other. But they're still great friends."

"Is he seeing someone new? I don't see any new girls here."

"No, not that I know of. I think he's contemplating becoming a monk," Dawn tried to play it off with humor.

"What about Gabby? Is she dating someone?"

Dawn's eyes widened and she looked absolutely flabbergasted. "Are you insane, Micky? After what you've put her through? If she _were_ seeing someone, she'd certainly be within her rights, but if she were seeing someone, she'd have told you. But no, for some reason she's decided to let you try and make amends to her. So no, she's not seeing anyone, and don't let it get back to her that you asked that question and don't ask anyone else. No one will take kindly to the question."

Micky held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, I'm sorry. I totally agree with you. She'd have every right to dump my ass and go find someone else to be happy with. That's why I asked. I wanted to know what the situation was so I didn't do or say the wrong thing. Dawn, do you think I have any chance of getting her back?"

Dawn gave him a steely gaze. "If you mean do you have any chance of redeeming yourself in her eyes, then the answer is a big fat maybe. But don't think for a moment it's a question of getting her back. She's nobody's to get. What you did to her made her realize that. You treated her as if she was disposable, like a thing, not a person. So she's not get-able anymore. She's a damaged person and she's going to have to be convinced that you have cleaned up your act, that you understand exactly what you did wrong, to what depths you hurt her, and that you have a plan for how you'll never do it again. I'm not speaking for her, by the way, but that's just my interpretation of her thinking from what I could glean from talking to her. You're going to have to wait and speak to her about it. I'm not sure whether the trauma you caused isn't permanent. You may have ventured into Nick territory. I just don't know. But you are her husband and that counts for something, I guess. Those vows she took mean something to her. Otherwise, you'd have already been served with divorce papers."

Micky had his hands on his hips and he just bobbed his head up and down in comprehension. "I appreciate you giving it to me straight between the eyes, Dawn. Reminds me of that talk we had at Dodger Stadium all those years ago when I was trying to figure out how to convince Gabby to date me."

Dawn's expression softened and she smiled at the memory. "Yeah, only this time, you've really upped your game in terms of being a lowlife. You've got a lot of climbing to do before you can even see the top of the hole you've dug yourself."

Micky closed his eyes, wincing with shame at the notion that he had fallen below what he had formerly considered the nadir of ungentlemanly behavior, the memory of his long ago days as a groupie gatherer.

"I'm going to give it my best shot, Dawn. That's all I can do. If it's not enough, I'll let her go."

Dawn bristled and jabbed her finger at Micky. "Listen, Mister, if it's not enough, she'll be the one doing the cutting loose. And you better not give her any guff about it either. She's got a right to get on with her life if you can't do right by her."

Micky looked shocked at Dawn's frank, vigorous defense of her friend. Then he nodded his head again and just said "I promise I'll do my best, Dawn. I don't want to hurt her. I know with her it's deep and visceral. It's either gonna fly with her or it's not. And if it's not, I'm just saying I'll back off and not give her a hard time. I'm grateful she's willing to hear me out."

Dawn put her hand on Micky's arm and said "That's the spirit, Micky. A little humility will go a long way. And don't confuse humility with humiliation. She doesn't want you to grovel. She wants you to step up and be a man and take responsibility for what you did. She wants you to make amends, which means not just saying you're sorry, but also you need to convince her you'll never do it again. And you're probably going to find that her terms of engagement have changed, so if what she wants and what you want don't match up anymore, you may decide you don't want to stay with her anyway."

"What do you mean?" he asked, looking a mixture of puzzlement and dread.

Dawn shook her head. "I've said enough. You can wait and speak with Gabby."

The party was in full swing and everyone was having fun. In deference to Micky, no weed was pulled out but instruments appeared and singing happened, just like old times. When Gabby heard the singing, she woke up and decided to venture out and re-join the party. The lights were now low and she felt less vulnerable, able to slink in the shadows and just observe without standing out or being seen.

She took up a place behind the couch and put her hands on Mike's shoulders as he sat back and listened to Micky play his acoustic guitar. Mike reached back and patted her hand and murmured "It will all be okay, darlin'." Wendy was sitting next to Mike and looked up at Gabby, nodding her head in affirmation. A warm feeling passed through Gabby's chest as she reflected at how helpful and human Mike and Wendy had been lately, for both Peter and Dawn, and her and Micky. She appreciated their quiet strength and realized they hadn't asked for any thanks, nor probably received many. She bent down and kissed each one of them on the head and said tearfully "Thank you for everything."

Just then, she realized what song Micky was singing. It was the song he wrote for her when she was in the hospital, after she had been injured in the protest a few days after their big fight — _I'll Spend My Life With You_. It had been a pre-proposal to her, a commitment to growing up and cleaning up his act and becoming the man she needed him to be so that they could be in a committed relationship and eventually move in together and get married. As he sang the lyrics, he made some slight eye contact with her, but mostly he just sang the song, and she knew he was trying to be respectful of her anxiety and skittishness while still conveying his message. When he looked at her again, she nodded in appreciation and he smiled. 

Davy was busy eying the two of them until Jan came over to sit next to him and dug him in the ribs. He flinched and said "Oy, what's up?"

Jan frowned and said "Davy, try to be discreet for God's sake, or rather for Gabby's sake! Micky's volatile enough. We don't need him putting two and two together about you and her and figuring out what's been going on between you."

Davy shook his head "Nah, nah, you've got it all wrong, Jan. Nothing's going on. I haven't laid a hand on her since she moved in. I swear it. She cahn't handle it, and she's been waiting on Micky. I told her that's what I thought she ought to do and she agreed that it was what was best for her, too. We had a definite meeting of the minds on that. I've just been a good friend to her. That's it."

Jan looked shocked. "So you're telling me you've never . . .?"

Davy squirmed "Well, I didn't say nevah. It was one time. One time to try and break the spell. It didn't really work, but I'm waiting to see how things shake out between her and Micky before I make me move."

"Wow, Davy, I'll give you credit. You're a man of discipline and principle." She laughed with a mix of bitterness and the absurdity of the situation. "I can't believe I'm even having this conversation with you, but then again, you do have some sort of power over ex-girlfriends." She winked at him and they both giggled. "So, can I ask you this? Do you think you'd ever be interested in seeing me again if things don't work out with you and her?"

Davy was stunned at Jan's proposal. It was a humbling, almost debasing suggestion in his opinion, one that was far beneath her and it made him feel terrible. "Jan, I've hurt you terribly and disappointed you beyond reason now that you know the truth. How can you still want to be with me?"

Jan shrugged. "Maybe for the same reason you keep holding out hope that Gabby will come around. I'm in love with you and you're more than just a guy I dated for six years. I thought you were IT for me, Davy, and as of yet, I haven't found anyone to take your place. If I'm still single and Gabby goes back to Micky, feel free to contact me. I'm not too proud to be the girl who wasn't IT for you. I'd just like to be the one who made you happy when you couldn't have the one you thought was meant for you. You know, like Mike's song goes, but the reverse – she just might _not_ be the one." She kissed him on the cheek and got up and walked over to Dawn who was heading for the kitchen. Davy leaned back on the couch with a stunned expression and just contemplated their conversation. 

Eventually, Micky made his way over to Davy and asked him how he was doing, what he had been up to and just generally tried to make chit chat. Davy did his best to try to keep any hostility out of his voice, remembering that Gabby's safety depended upon it. He drew on his acting skills and pretended he was playing a role, that of a bloke's best mate at a night out at a pub. Thus was he able to get through a civil conversation with Micky, sharing the details of his plan to go to Manchester and see his sisters. Micky asked where Davy was living and he kept it vague, answering, "Oh, on the water," not wanting to tip Micky off to Gabby's location should he find out she was living with Davy. 

Davy was deeply grateful when Micky finally moved on to speak with someone else. He felt wrung out emotionally and like he had just spoken to the devil. He could not see Micky as a benign force. He could only see the magnitude of emotional and spiritual damage he had wrought on Gabby and see him as the embodiment of both weakness and evil. He was ashamed of himself that he could not summon any sympathy for Micky. But he felt what he felt, and he rationalized it that he had been the one left to clean up the fallout from Micky's mess, watching Gabby live through hell for months.

The party was emptying out and Gabby's system was starting to shut down from the stress and panic she had been experiencing all night, and she really wanted to leave. She had planned badly, however, and was going home with Davy before going over to Mike and Wendy's tomorrow so she could get the dogs settled in on her way to work. But too late she and Davy realized that they couldn't be seen leaving the party together. So they waited and waited for Micky to leave, only he didn't leave. He lingered on. Finally, it became apparent that he was hoping he'd get to at least speak with Gabby before he left and she knew she'd have to let it happen. So she grabbed Dawn's hand in her left and Peter's hand in her right and marched them over to Micky and finally said hello to him. 

They hugged lightly and Micky said in a whisper "Hi, Gabby. I'm glad I got to say hello before I leave."

Taking a huge gasp of breath, Gabby said "Hi, Micky. I'm glad you're here. It was great to see the kids greeting you."

He looked puzzled, thinking she meant Peter and Dawn's kids, then his face reflected comprehension that she meant the dogs. "Oh, yeah, that was funny seeing their little butts wiggling. I've missed them. Thanks for bringing them."

She nodded and said nothing more. She still clutched Dawn and Peter's hands fiercely. Micky looked down at their hands and realized that Gabby had stopped breathing. She was trying hard not to make her next breath a gasp. She didn't want to embarrass Micky and she was about to pass out. He knew he needed to get out of there but he wanted to let Dawn know what to do to care for her.

"Well, it was great seeing you. I've got to leave now. Thanks for the party, Pete, Dawn. Dawn, will you walk me out?"

He shook Peter's hand and then quickly drew Dawn towards the front door. As he grabbed his coat, he whispered "Dawn, she's not just having a panic attack. She's having a break from reality. She's not in her body anymore. She's floating above it. Go ask her and she'll probably tell you that's what's happening. You need to go ask her and try to talk her back down into her body. That's her way of describing a psychotic break. Please go take care of her. I'm so sorry I brought that on. I'm going to leave right away, but I wanted someone to know how to care for her. I'm the only one who knows, but now you do, too." He gave her a quick hug and took one more glance at Gabby. She had a glassy look in her eyes and Peter was leading her back to the bedroom. Dawn dashed towards them and Micky knew he had done everything he could for her. Now he could leave.

Now that Micky was gone, everyone dropped all pretense and wanted to know what the hell was going on with Gabby. They rushed the bedroom door but Peter shooed them all away. Davy broke through his arms and fled to Gabby's side, kneeling by the bed and listening silently as Dawn talked to her. He realized with horror that she was talking Gabby down from what seemed to be some sort of out-of-body experience she was having. He took hold of Gabby's hand and stroked it gently but she was too out of it to notice. 

It was getting late and Gabby was still mostly non-responsive. Peter, Dawn and Davy decided they needed a plan B. Davy's flight was set for early in the morning but he absolutely refused to leave Gabby's side. He decided to drive to his place, get his things ready for the flight and return to Dawn and Peter's and stay the night there with Gabby. Peter could take Gabby home to Davy's the next day and then drive her and the dogs to Mike and Wendy's. That way, she wouldn't have to be moved and could just go to sleep. Dawn gave her one of the tranquilizers her shrink had prescribed for her. Dawn and Peter didn't alert anyone to the plan, but just let the party continue. Davy was back after everyone had left and everyone assumed he had just gone home. 

Gabby was back in her old bedroom and stirred when Davy got into bed with her. He said "It's Davy, luv. I'm back. I'm going to sleep here to watch over you." 

She froze up, squeezed her eyes shut tighter and cried "Davy, please, tell me you're not naked!" 

Davy shushed her and said "Oh come on, give me some credit. I'm not naked. I brought some pajamas just for you, Gabby."

"Okay, thanks. Sorry, I just can't handle being in bed with someone who looks like you naked."

Davy laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment. Don't worry, friend. I'm here to help you, not to freak you out. I'm nevah gonna lay a hand on you, Gabby, unless you ask me to. Remember, we talked about consent a long time ago? That one night?"

Gabby burst into tears. "Oh, Davy. Did I fuck you up too? Should I have said no?"

Davy put his arm around her and tried to soothe her down. "Gabby, who did you fuck up? Not me. And not Micky. You DID NOT fuck him up. He fucked himself up. Let's get that straight, okay? And you didn't fuck me up either. I asked you to give me one night, and you did. One beautiful, magical night. A night I'll nevah forget or regret. You were nothing but love, kindness and generosity giving me that night."

She continued to cry stormy tears, listening to him sing her praises that she felt she didn't deserve. "Davy, you're saying things about me that are too kind. I'm not a good person. I destroy men's lives. Look at Micky now. Look at you. Look at Nick. Everyone I'm with ends up unhappy."

Davy now enveloped her with his arms and held her tight to him. "Gabby, Gabby, listen to me. You are not thinking clearly. You are not in your right mind."

"No, I'm not! I'm not even in my body anymore. I'm floating!"

Davy was lost in bewilderment. "Floating?"

"I'm out of my mind, Davy. I'm up there, above the bed, looking down at us both, you holding me, me crying my eyes out. I'm not inside myself. I'm somewhere else."

"What can I do for you?"

"You can't do anything. The only one who could ever do anything for me isn't here. He's gone and he's probably never coming back."

"Micky?"

She nodded and cried even harder.

Davy was in agony now. He knew he didn't have the dictionary to understand the language Gabby was speaking. He was defeated. He knew the only person who had ever cracked the code to Gabby's psyche was Micky. He could probably learn if she gave him time and a chance to learn, but right now, he was all at sea and at a complete disadvantage. And now he hated Micky even more. Not just for destroying the fragile balance of Gabby's mind, but for leaving with the key to it, with the antidote for her misery. Nobody else had it. 

"Gabby, what do you want me to do? Do you want me to call Micky?"

Gabby stilled her breath and thought about it. It seemed insane. Micky was the reason why she was in this mess. He had driven her over the edge. He was the cause of all this pain. But she knew in her heart that he could remove it as well. Was she ready to face life without his healing touch, when she knew he was just down the street? If they got divorced, she'd have to forsake his help forever. Why couldn't she just manage this without him? But she longed for release from this despair, and she longed for Micky's healing touch. Above all, she feared she would stay floating and never come back down. She'd never had such a sustained, hours-long, out-of-body panic attack. And they _weren't_ divorced. They were still married. She was entitled to his help. She nodded and pleaded "Yes. Call him."

Davy sighed and shook his head. He had grave misgivings, but he knew that despite being out of her mind, Gabby still knew her own mind.

Davy had to call Mike to get Micky's number. Mike was absolutely against allowing Davy to call Micky. Davy agreed, but said Gabby was in charge of her own life. Mike asked "Man, how can you hand her over to him? Aren't you in love with her? Aren't you gonna fight for her?"

Davy snapped "Yes and yes, Mike, but the way to her heart is to respect her and do as she asks. And this is what she wants. So please give me his number."

Mike sighed and gave Davy the number. Davy thanked him and hung up the phone. Then he went in search of Peter and Dawn to warn them.

They of course were also opposed to him calling Micky. Again, Davy repeated what he had told Mike and said they had to respect Gabby's wishes. Dawn admitted that she had made no headway at all with trying to apply Micky's advice. The only thing she'd been able to elicit from Gabby was an acknowledgment that she was floating, but she couldn't get her back down to Earth. She was still freaking out when she went to bed. Finally, they agreed to let Davy call Micky.

It was almost 2:30 a.m. when Micky's phone rang. He was still getting used to sleeping without Gabby and the dogs in his house, so the phone's ring brought him out of a very light sleep. He answered it on high alert, knowing that something must be gravely amiss for the phone to ring that late.

"Yeah, hello, what's up?"

Davy said "Micky, it's Davy. We need you to come back over to Pete and Dawn's house right away. Gabby's still freaking out and she's asked you to come over and help her."

Micky was shocked and needed affirmation for what he thought Davy was telling him. " _Gabby_ asked me to come over?"

Davy responded grimly "Yeah, Gabby asked me to call you and have you come over. She says you're the only one who knows how to help her when she's floating. Do you know what she means?"

Micky was all business now. "Yes. I know exactly what she means. But I told Dawn what to do. Didn't she try to talk her down?"

Davy was getting frustrated. Here he was, doing the last thing in the world he wanted to be doing, asking Micky to come over and get involved in Gabby's world again, and Micky had the nerve to be resisting him!

"Yes, Micky, Dawn tried, but it didn't work."

"But Davy, what if I come over and I just make it worse?"

Finally Davy snapped. "Goddammit, Micky, get your ass over to this house right now before I come over there and haul you over here meself! You made this mess and now you're gonna clean it up. Your amends making process starts right fucking now. Now get dressed and come over!"

Micky relented. He realized that there was no fork in the road, no alternative routes to take. He had one choice, one chance, and he had better take it. "Okay, I'll be there in a few minutes. Tell her I'm on the way."

Davy hung up the phone on Micky without thanking him or saying anything else. He was furious and didn't trust himself to be civil. He realized he had better not be seen in a pair of pajamas, though, so he quickly changed back into his clothes. Then he leaned over Gabby and said "Okay, Gabby, Micky's on his way. Hang in there." Gabby just moaned and continued to cry and gasp for air.


	28. Chapter 28

About ten minutes after hanging up the phone with Micky, the doorbell rang. Davy charged over to the door and let Micky in. Their eyes met, the chocolate ones blazing with anger and resentment, the hazel ones full of trepidation and remorse. Peter and Dawn emerged from their bedroom and quickly ushered Micky into their room for a conference with Davy.

Davy explained the conversation he had had with Gabby. Micky blinked with incomprehension and then his face began to twist into expressions of suspicion and jealousy. 

"Why are you still here? Why were you in bed with Gabby? Are you having an affair with her?"

Davy roared at him "No, you pillock! I'm not having an affair with Gabby. I've been taking care of her for months while you've been out chasing tail and drinking and drugging yourself into a stupor and then getting yourself sorted out. I've been a friend to her and nothing more. Now there's no time for this discussion. You need to get in there and talk her down off the ceiling or wherever it is her mind and soul are hanging out. You're the only one who speaks her language and who knows how to get her straight. So please save the drama for later and go take care of your wife."

Micky's face transformed again into a look of agony and shame as Davy reminded him of his shortcomings, then into one of determination and confidence as he asked "Where is she? Show me where to go."

Dawn froze Davy with a forbidding stare as he tried to lead the way, then she took Micky by the hand herself, leading him towards the bedroom. "She's in there. I'll come in with you and then leave you alone."

Micky panicked "Leave me alone? You mean you trust me to be alone with her?"

Dawn took his hand in both of hers and gripped it hard. "Yes, Micky. You need to be trusted to show you deserve it. So I trust you. Now show me you've earned it."

Micky squared his shoulders as he followed Dawn into the bedroom. She leaned over Gabby and stroked her hair. "Gabby, Micky's here. I'm going to be out in the living room with Peter and Davy. If you need anything, just give a holler. We can hear you. Okay? Nod if you can hear me."

Gabby nodded feebly.

Dawn gave Micky one more look, this time one a mixture of gratitude and encouragement, and left the room.

Micky approached the bed and said "Gabby, it's me, Micky. I'm here. Is that okay?"

Gabby nodded.

"Davy says you're floating. Is that where you are?"

She nodded again.

"Okay, I'm really glad Davy called me. He's been a good friend to you and I'm really grateful he called me when he said he couldn't help you in this situation. Is that okay that he called me?"

Gabby sniffled "Y-y-y-yes, I asked him to call you. D-d-davy, I – he – we..."

"It's okay, Gabby. He told me he's been looking after you while I've been away. I'm really glad. Thank you for trusting me, Gabby. I'm here to help you. Is it okay if I sit down on the bed with you?"

Gabby nodded.

"So how long have you been floating, Gabby? When did it start?"

"When I had to go talk to you, or maybe really before then when I realized you weren't going to leave until I did."

"I'm sorry, Gabby. I shouldn't have stuck around. I should have known you wouldn't be ready to talk to me. I used to be better at reading your signals. I'm sorry. Please know that I didn't do it on purpose. I just didn't pick up on your distress. I thought you were doing okay. So that's number one. You're under no pressure to ever talk to me again after tonight. Okay?"

Gabby nodded. Then she paused and said "But I want to talk to you after tonight."

Micky held his breath and tried to sound very casual. "You do?"

Gabby nodded.

"Well let's talk now. Tell me about what you're feeling. What you're seeing."

Gabby took a big sip of air and blew it out, then another gulp of air.

Micky intervened. "Easy, Gabby. Just one breath at a time. You don't need it all, just a breath at a time. We don't have to talk. You want to work on breathing first?"

She nodded.

"Okay, let's do that. Is it okay if I touch you?"

Gabby paused and asked tentatively "Where?"

"I want to take your hand and put it on my chest so you can feel me breathing and you can match yours up to mine. Is that okay?"

She gave a curt nod and reached her shaking hand out.

Micky took her hand gently, as if it were made of spider's web, and raised it to his chest. He stayed silent and just breathed in and out for a few moments. Deep, exaggerated breaths, but at a slow, even pace so she could follow them.

"Do you think you can try to match yours with mine?"

"Maybe..."

"Okay. You try it."

She started to breathe in with him and blow it out at the same pace. She choked a bit at first but then she started to get the hang of it. After a while, he didn't have to exaggerate his breath, he just breathed more naturally and she followed along. They stayed this way for about ten minutes.

"Gabby, does that feel better?"

She nodded and patted Micky's chest. Tears sprang to his eyes and he smiled. She withdrew her hand and curled it up under her chin.

"Are you still floating?"

"Yes."

"Do you feel like talking now, telling me what you see, how you feel?"

"Okay."

"What do you see?"

"I see my pitiful, disgusting self. I see me destroying men's lives and making them unhappy. They love me and I give myself to them and then they hurt me and abuse me and leave me and they're ruined and miserable because they loved me. I must bring that out in them. I'm to blame."

Micky winced at her harsh, warped view of herself and her track record with relationships.

"Gabby, that doesn't sound like you to me. You haven't destroyed anyone's life."

Gabby started to cry again. "Yes, I have. Nick wasn't a monster when I met him. You were a confident asshole when I met you, but after you met me you fell apart and then you left me. Davy was a hedonistic, cocky bastard and then he fell for me and I cast a spell on him and he couldn't love anyone else and he lost Jan and even though I tried to give him what he needed to break the spell it didn't work and now he's still alone and miserable."

Micky realized that Gabby was telling him information and opinions she held that she was going to regret having divulged once she regained her faculties. So he tried to just set it all aside and look at it very clinically, separating his feelings from his mission to bring her back to reality and soothe her.

"Okay, I'm not sure I get all of that, so let's talk it through bit by bit. So first, I'm pretty sure that Nick was always a monster. He just hid it from you well at the beginning until you got sucked in. That's what you told me before and that's what your therapist said. I think you can trust that, Gabby. I think you can believe that and don't have to carry any responsibility for Nick being a monster. Can we agree on that?"

Gabby shrugged and said "Well, okay, you might be right about that. He might have always been evil and maybe I just didn't spot it. Maybe I didn't make him that way. Maybe I didn't deserve what I got."

"Or course you didn't, Gabby. So let's do the next one. You said I was a confident asshole when I met you, which is funny because I think I was pretty much faking confidence all the way until I met you and you gave me reason to believe in myself."

Gabby stilled her breathing and asked meekly "I did that?"

"Yeah, you did that. I mean, what kind of insecure asshole must I have been to go using women and looking for self-confidence in how many conquests I could rack up? I didn't have the guts to have a real relationship with anyone until I met you."

"But you got so many hangups after I met you. You didn't need a shrink before you met me. You didn't used to be scared to perform."

"Gabby, that had nothing to do with my meeting you. I got sexually assaulted in the men's room by a groupie. That would have happened with or without you in my life."

"But she was from the store where I worked."

"Yeah, but that's a technicality. That's like saying the whole world got knocked off course because of one small meteor. It just didn't happen that way. There was way more involved than that."

"But then why did you turn into a druggie and a drunk and go back to sleeping around and cheat on me? That must have something to do with me. You must have been unhappy with me."

"Gabby, we need to have this conversation another time when you're not floating. But I promise you with all my heart and all sincerity that those things are all on me. You did not cause them to happen. Have you heard of a character defect?"

Gabby turned her head to face Micky and asked "Hey, have you been going to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings?"

Micky was stunned. This was a level of coherence he didn't expect to be having with someone who was out of her mind. He was pretty sure she either wasn't floating anymore or was starting to come back to reality, so he kept up with the conversation. 

"Yeah, I've been going to AA meetings. How come you know about the 12 steps and steps 6 and 7, the ones that talk about defects of character?"

Gabby shrugged her shoulders and admitted "I've been attending Al-Anon meetings for a few months."

Micky was confused. "Al-Anon. That sounds like AA, but different. What is that?"

"It's for people who have loved ones who are alcoholics and addicts. It's kind of a sister program to AA. It uses the same literature and we also work the 12 steps. I'm on step 6, so I'm all about looking at my character defects. I feel like I have a ton of them and maybe that's what drove you away."

"No, Gabby, that's not what happened. It was my own character defects that made me lose my way and leave you. And it's not like they developed after I met you. You know by now that we're born with them, or we develop them over the course of a lifetime, but we have to take responsibility for them. So whenever I picked them up, you're not to blame for them."

"I guess maybe that makes sense. I don't know."

"So I'm not going to make you talk about the third thing you said, about Davy, unless you want to."

Gabby froze. With a shaky voice she asked "What did I say about Davy?"

Micky realized that Gabby was back in her body and didn't remember what she'd said about Davy. Now he had a dilemma. Should he pretend he didn't know and just try to slough it off? Or should he come clean and tell her he knew? Maybe she wouldn't remember this conversation in the morning, but he couldn't count on that. If he didn't tell her the truth, then he'd be starting off their reconciliation with a big fat lie of omission. Even though it was about something she had done behind his back, while he was away, something that would no doubt piss him off once he knew the details (if he ever did find them out), he now had to decide whether to protect her secret or admit he knew it. He thought about what he'd been learning in AA and remembered that there was a passage in the book the program used, called The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous, that counseled "rigorous honesty." He decided he'd better tell her what he knew.

"Gabby, I don't want to cause you pain and it's none of my business what happened with Davy. Are you sure you want me to remind you what you said?"

Gabby sighed and groaned. "You may as well, Micky. Eventually, we're going to have to talk about everything."

"You said you cast a spell on him and he couldn't love anyone else and he lost Jan and you tried to give him what he needed to break the spell but it didn't work and now he's alone and miserable."

"I said that?"

"Yeah. Are you still floating now, Gabby?"

She groaned "Uch, nope. I'm here with you now, Micky. Here with you, scared of what you must be thinking and assuming. Whatever you think, it's not that – it's not that bad. I'm only Davy's friend."

Micky nodded. "I know, he told me. I couldn't figure out why he was here, why he had been in bed with you trying to calm you down. I asked him if he was having an affair with you and he said no. He said he's been taking care of you for months. Is that true?"

"Yes, it's true. He's been looking after me. He's been a good friend."

"Anything else you want to tell me about him?"

"Not right now, but someday I will. But like I said, it's not what you think. You'll never be able to conjure up a picture in your mind that will match what really happened until I tell you, so don't let your mind go anywhere with it."

"Okay, I won't. Just tell me this. Are you in love with him?"

"No, Micky. I'm not."

"Is he in love with you?"

"Yes, I think he still is. But he'll never do anything about it unless I tell him it's okay."

"Are you considering his offer?"

"Not at the moment. I'm still married to you."

Micky blew out a big breath of relief and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He ran his hands through his hair and said "Thank God."

"Micky?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for helping me. It was a lot for me to ask of you. But I felt like this time I might never come back down."

"It's okay, I feel like a million bucks that you wanted my help. To tell you the truth, I was scared to come over. Davy had to threaten me. He told me my amends making process was starting right fucking now."

Gabby snorked out a small laugh.

"I didn't want to hurt you again, Gabby. I knew I had sent you into that breakdown in the first place. And I wasn't sure if you would trust me to help you get out of it. Thank you for trusting me."

Gabby reached out her hand to Micky and silently asked for him to take her hand. He placed his hand in hers and they just let their hands touch. A squeeze of the hand meant something much more intimate, something sexual, a signal they had established long ago in the first flower of their courtship that meant "I want to make love to you." Micky reflected on how much of their communication was nonverbal and Gabby interrupted his thoughts.

"I know. That's why I didn't squeeze your hand. Highly inappropriate."

Micky was stunned at this saucy comment and guffawed loudly. Dawn came rushing to the door to see what was going on. She saw them holding hands and Micky laughing and caught his eye, nodded her head with approval and then retreated back out the door.

Gabby said "I'm tired now, and Davy has to get up early for his flight, and Peter and Dawn have the kids to worry about. Thank you for coming over here and saving my sanity. I'm glad you're going to meetings. That's one of my conditions for us reconnecting, so please keep it up. I'm glad I didn't have to ask you to go, that you went on your own. If I'd have told you that you had to go to AA, I'd never know whether you were doing it for me or for you. But I need you to stay in the program for me to feel safe."

Micky's jaw dropped in dismay. "Safe? Are you afraid of me, Gabby?"

"Yes, Micky. I'm afraid of who you became, and I don't know who you are now. You're going to have to re-introduce yourself to me, show me who you are. So I'll just say that guys who attend several AA meetings per week really turn me on."

Micky laughed again and said "Thanks for taking the sting out of the first part of that speech with the last part. I'm going to try to show you that you don't have to be scared of me."

"We'll see, Micky. I want you to be happy and healthy above all. Concentrate on that, not on convincing me of anything. Get well first. That's what they say in the program – you have to put your own oxygen mask on first before you can help anyone else. So just get well and then you can work on reconnecting with me. Reconnect with yourself first."

"I'll do that, Gabby. I almost said 'my Gabby,' but I know I can't say that anymore. I hope someday I can again."

"I do, too. I really do."

"When can I speak with you again?"

"I don't know. I'll get word to you through someone in the family, or I'll call you myself."

"You're not going to tell me where to contact you at home?"

"No. And I don't want you coming to my office or calling me there either."

"Okay, that's fair."

"Goodnight, Micky. Thank you."

"Goodnight, Gabby." He reluctantly removed his hand from hers and left the room.

Dawn, Peter and Davy were up on their feet like a shot as soon as Micky emerged from the bedroom. Dawn spoke first. "How is she?"

"She's okay. She's back on the ground and she's coherent. She knows what happened to her and that she's back now. She gave me a little talking to about what I have to do if I want to be in her life again, which is a good sign. She's making her own decisions and talking about the present and the future, so she's definitely coherent. That's as clinical as I can make it."

Dawn put her hands on her hips and said "Micky, I didn't ask you for a fucking diagnosis! I asked you how she is!"

Micky smiled and said "Okay, I just didn't feel like I ought to venture an opinion about anything. I don't feel like my word is good for much around here."

"Too bloody right!" groused Davy.

Peter shot him a warning look and Dawn retorted "Hey, short stuff, I didn't ask for your opinion, I asked Micky."

Micky tried to ignore Davy and just keep a neutral demeanor. "I think she's back to her normal self and that she'll be fine after she catches up with her sleep. I do think it would be a good idea if you could convince her not to go to work tomorrow. She's going to have an emotional hangover and it usually makes her system shut down. She'll be tired and will need to sleep it off, and what's left of tonight isn't going to be enough. Wherever she's living, can you see if someone can stay with her for a night or two?"

"Don't worry about it, Micky," Pete assured him. "We'll make sure she's not alone. We're already on it."

"Great. Thanks. So I guess that's pretty much all I have to contribute. I'll be going now." He turned to Davy and offered him his hand. "Thank you for calling me, Davy."

Davy took his hand and shook it, but it was a begrudging handshake. He nodded curtly and said "Yeh, well, thanks for coming in and saving the day, or night as the case may be."

Sensing tension rising, something Peter was an expert at, he put his arm around Micky and walked him to the door. "Thanks, man. We really appreciate your help. Merry Christmas, Micky. Say hello to your mom for me. You're going home to see them, right?"

"Yeah, it will be good to see my sisters and my mom and stepdad. Now that I have the time to give them, all of a sudden those girls are all grown up and too busy for me! Still, I'll be there for a few days. If anything comes up, though, I'm real close by and you know how to reach me."

"Right, sure thing. Thanks for mentioning it."

He went outside with Micky and stood in the driveway as Micky got into his car. He waved him goodbye and then went back into the house. When he came back in, he saw Dawn scolding Davy and Davy looking a bit intimidated and chastened.

"Davy, you need to step off, friend. Micky may be a long way from being back in Gabby's good graces, but he's still her husband and she still wants to be married to him. If you try to get between them you're going to get flattened and your feelings are going to get crushed. I don't want to see you get hurt and I also don't appreciate your trying to shame Micky. He's still part of this family and he needs our support."

Davy threw up his hands and said "You know what? Fuck the family! I'm worried about Gabby. We cahn't pick our relatives, but we can pick our friends. We're friends, not a family. And if Micky cahn't behave civilly and keep his nose clean, I say he should be kicked out."

Dawn hissed "Shhhhh. You'll upset Gabby. God forbid she should ever hear you talk like that. I'll give you a tip. Don't ever say anything like that to her. This family thing means everything to her. I don't know why exactly. It must have something to do with her own family not being close, or maybe it's because her two best friends married her guy's friends, but for whatever reason, it's crucial to Gabby's happiness that we all try to get along and stay together as a unit. So don't go trying to cut anyone loose if you care about Gabby. You won't be doing her or yourself any favors. We're all in this together. Just like in the lean days when none of us could take a shit without asking the others' permission. So now you know how I felt when I had to wait years before I got to have my first baby. Because of this fucking family. So yeah, Davy, this family is gonna stay a family, and that includes Micky. Do you understand me?"

Davy nodded. "I see what you mean, Dawn. Stand down."

Peter looked at the clock and saw that it was nearly 4:00 a.m. "Look it's time for us to turn in. We're all getting at each other because we're tired. Davy, you need to get some rest or your system is gonna be all fucked up by the time you get home to your family. I'll be up early to see you off."

Davy hugged Peter and Dawn and said "Thanks for taking care of us all tonight."

Davy crept into the room and decided not to bother getting undressed. He slid into the bed and under the covers. Gabby stirred and said "Micky?"

Davy felt more depressed than he ever had in his life. "No, Gabby, it's me, Davy. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm doing better." She reached out her hand to Davy and felt for his hand. He gave her his hand and she tucked it under her chin and kissed it. "Thank you for looking after me and doing as I asked by calling Micky. I know it killed you to do it. I didn't consider your feelings when I asked, I only thought about whether I could get back down to Earth on my own. I'm sorry."

Davy shrugged and ran his fingertip over her chin. "It's okay, luv. I'll always do what's best for you even if it hurts me. I love you and we're friends, so that pretty much covers it."

"No, that goes above and beyond. You're a very special friend, Davy. Thank you."

"Sure, Gabby. Get some sleep. Want me to wake you up to say goodbye tomorrow?"

"Of course. Don't you dare leave without my getting to hug you and wish you well."

"Okay. Then go to sleep now."

"Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, luv."

Davy's hand was still tucked under Gabby's chin, so he left it there. He knew he wouldn't be sleeping for as long as it remained there. He settled in and listened to her breathe and used the time to reevaluate his situation and his life. Eventually, he dropped off to sleep.


	29. Chapter 29

Davy returned from his trip home on the 29th so that the family could get together and celebrate his and Mike's birthdays. Gabby was still scared to be in a situation where she'd have to talk one-on-one with Micky with no one nearby, so they decided to just book a table at a restaurant where they could keep the two separated at either end of the table and keep contact to a minimum. This time, Gabby had her own car so that she and Davy would be seen to be leaving separately. Davy just had to remember not to drink too much so he could drive himself home. Unfortunately, he couldn't seem to manage this.

By the time everyone had arrived at the restaurant and they were settled into their private dining room — still a necessity despite their having been out of the spotlight for a few years — Davy was in his cups, having imbibed quite a bit of whiskey. He was jubilant to see his friends, but when Micky showed up, his demeanor turned to thunder like the eye of a hurricane leaving the vicinity and the storm unleashing its fury on what it left behind. Jan immediately decided she had better take charge of Davy and try to either sober him up or talk him into a better attitude, so she marched him out of the restaurant and walked him around the block. The night was relatively cool for Los Angeles and the air went a fair piece towards helping him regain his faculties, if not composure.

Jan felt both compassion and concern for Davy. While everyone had been focusing on Gabby's undeniably pitiable situation, Davy's own mental state was undoubtedly deteriorating. She slipped her hand in his and spoke quietly but firmly to him.

"Davy, you have got to get a grip on your negative emotions. They're leaking out of you from every pore. I know you're hurt, angry, offended, confused – go ahead, tell me some more adjectives. Get them off your chest, it will do you good."

Davy snorted derisively at this word association/stream of consciousness game Jan was suggesting, but then realized how much he had been holding inside and decided to go ahead and let some of it out.

He picked up Jan's list and added some more to it. "I'm outraged, jilted, jealous, disgusted, heartsick, depressed, aimless, despairing." He stopped walking and turned to Jan with tears in his eyes. He threw his hands out to his sides and cried "Look at me, Jan. What's missing? What don't I have that she wants? And how come a guy like Micky can fuck up so royally and abuse her so badly and still get a chahnce at getting her back?"

Jan let her hands gently push Davy's arms back down, pausing a moment to caress them. "Davy, there's not a thing missing. There's nothing that you don't have. You just aren't the man she's in love with. Maybe if Micky blows his chances with her, you will be the man left in her life whom she loves best and maybe then you'll get a chance to help her fall in love with you. I'll bet she loves you tremendously, but she's never even considered being in love with you."

Davy dropped his head and nodded. "Yeh, she told me that the night we..."

Jan furrowed her brows in confusion. "Then if that's the case, why did she go ahead and sleep with you?"

Davy winced and took Jan's hands in his, hoping he could explain this to her in a way she could understand. "Jan, she did it to help a friend. I told her how miserable I was, spending so many years under her spell, not being able to move forward with me life with you or any other woman. I begged her to do it so that maybe it would help me either move past her or convince her to be with me. She told me she wasn't going to make any decisions about whether to be with me or not until she figured out what to do about Micky. And she told me she wasn't in love with me and never had been. But since Micky had done her wrong, she felt she happened to be in a moral position to grant me request, and she agreed, as long as I could handle the consequences of her maybe not falling in love with me. In fact, she asked me what would happen if she fell in love with me and I got over her and I told her it was a possibility, so she was sacrificing her own happiness for me. What she did was purely for me own benefit. How could I know it would only make me love and want her more?"

Jan rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Davy, you should have seen that coming a mile away. You walked right into that trap and you set it for yourself. You can't blame Gabby for how you feel, and I realize you're not, but you're transferring your negativity to Micky instead. He doesn't own your misery. You do. I'm not judging you for sleeping with Gabby. It's a crazy notion you had, but I see why you thought it was a rational one at the time and why you went for it. But now that it hasn't worked out like you had hoped, you can't go dumping all over Micky for trying to reconcile with his wife. That's the natural order of things. What's not natural is what you did. And I'm not saying it was wrong. It sounds kind of beautiful and spiritual on some level, and I'm sure that Gabby felt that that's what it was all about or she'd never have done it. I take her word for it that she wasn't trying to seduce you or get back at Micky. She was granting you a favor, to try to help you save your heart and soul. But it didn't work, Davy. How long are you going to wait around to see whether she ends up in the dating pool for you to swoop in and claim her? And if living with you for several months wasn't enough to break her resistance down and have her banging on your bedroom door hollering her love and lust for you, what will ever change her mind?"

"She's a moral person, Jan. She's doing things in the right order. I just know if Micky strikes out with her, she'll come to me."

"But _how_ do you know?"

Davy tried to think back to their conversation that night when they talked between acts of lovemaking. "Because that night, she said maybe."

Jan scoffed. "Did she really say maybe, or is that what you think you heard? Anyway what good is a months-old maybe after she's been living under your roof and seen absolutely every good thing you've got to offer and it hasn't shaken her resolve an inch?"

Davy muttered "She's a woman of strong principles."

With a sigh Jan shrugged her shoulders and conceded "Okay, Davy, you were there and I wasn't, and you know her better than I do, so I can't be totally sure about the validity of anything I've said. But one thing I do know is that I hate seeing you this miserable, and the second thing is that you absolutely have got to make your peace with Micky taking primacy over you when it comes to Gabby's affections. He's her husband and she's said that her vows matter to her, that she hasn't given up on him yet. So if you must hate him — which I think is a toxic emotion for you to be carrying around with you, and I think it's taking a terrible toll on you — but if you must hate him, do it silently and with no outward signs. You'll never win Gabby's love by showing yourself to be a bitter, jealous, small man. She thinks you are a noble person. I think you're better off living up to that reputation."

Davy wiped the tears from his eyes and stiffened his spine, attempting to regain at least his physical dignity. "Thanks for listening, Jan, and for talking me off the ledge. Me brain hears what you're saying, but tell it to me 'eart."

"I just tried to. It's up to you now. But like I said, I'm still around, for comfort, solace or something more if you ever get your head together."

They walked back to the restaurant hand in hand.

Dinner was humming along fairly well, with Jan sitting next to Davy and continuing to monitor his alcohol intake, or so she thought, but still he got drunker though at least less belligerent. At this point, he seemed to be drowning his sorrows rather than moistening his grievances. He even managed to approach Micky and slap him on the back and jovially greet him. He thanked Micky for being there for his birthday and they exchanged pleasantries about their recent visits with their families. Jan watched with some relief at Davy's apparent resolution to take her advice to kill Micky with kindness or better yet get over his snit.

Eventually, Micky made eye contact with Gabby and drew a line between them with his pointer finger and flapped his fingers in the universal gesture meaning to chat. He was asking permission to approach her. She took her forefinger and thumb and pinched them together, indicating she could handle a tiny chat with him but no more. He nodded and smiled and waited a little while to accustom her to the idea and to give her a chance to marshal whatever support forces she wanted surrounding her. She had Robert come sit by her and hold her hand, then waved Micky over. She, Robert and Micky all had been employees together at the bookstore way back when and the two guys had bonded and become friendly right away, particularly when Robert joined the family when he started dating Lynda. He would make a safe buffer between them.

Micky sat down in the chair next to Robert so that Robert was between him and Gabby. Micky shook Robert's hand and hugged him and said hello to Gabby without touching her. She responded with a similarly quiet greeting. Micky shared about how he had spent his Christmas, and Gabby got to hear about how her in-laws were doing. Robert extolled the magnificent Christmas goose Lynda had made and praised her domestic skills to the heavens. Micky observed that he ought to nab Lynda while he still had the chance and Robert replied that he was on the lookout for a better paying job than the bookstore so he could make that happen.

Then it was Gabby's turn to share about her Christmas. She decided it did no harm to divulge her whereabouts after the fact, so she explained that she had stayed a few days with Mike and Wendy to catch up with her old best friend. She played it off as an olive branch offered by Wendy, as opposed to her seeking asylum while Davy was abroad. She had the guys laughing about the enthusiasm Wendy showed for celebrating Christmas and described the over-the-top decorations she had displayed. Then there was the ultimate punchline, in which Wendy made Mike dress up as Santa Claus and dole out presents on Christmas morning to not only her and Wendy, but to all five of their cats and Gabby's two dogs.

Micky grinned and speculated "I hope there are blackmail pictures in someone's safe for use at a later date."

"Oh, it's worse than that," Gabby giggled uncontrollably. "Wendy hired a professional photographer to come out to the house to memorialize the event. I imagine that photo will be their holiday card next year. Minus me and the dogs, obviously."

Micky stood up from his chair and said, "Well, I still have a few more people to catch up with before I leave. It was good seeing you both. Robert, is it okay if I stop by the bookstore one day when you're working and we can geek out in the stacks and then I'll take you to lunch?"

"Sure, that would be great. But wait until the second week of January. It's gonna be hell right after the new year because people will be coming out of their holiday stupor and returning all the books their relatives got them that they hate!"

Micky looked at Gabby and smiled and said "In case I don't see you anytime soon, happy New Year, Gabby."

She nodded and said, "Same to you, Micky. I wish you all good things in this coming year. I'm sure we'll see each other soon."

Micky's eyes brightened and so did his smile, but he said nothing more and just turned to walk away. Robert squeezed Gabby's hand, which she had been clutching on his tightly during the entire encounter. "You did good, Gabby. Can I do anything for you or get you anything?"

She smiled gratefully and said "Well first, I'll finally return your hand to you. And second, yeah, could I have a small glass of wine? Red." Robert caught Lynda's eye to come sit with Gabby while he went off in search of a drink for her.

Lynda settled herself down next to Gabby and asked "How'd it go?"

Gabby shrugged and responded banally, "Just like a real conversation with a normal person."

"Well, that's good, that's progress, right?"

Gabby turned terrified eyes towards her and said "What if it's just an act to trick me into thinking he's normal but he's really a monster like Nick was?"

"You know, Gabby, back home we say the proof is in the pudding. You can't know until you see the finished product. Micky's still a work in progress. Give him some time to build up a record of reliability and trustworthiness. You'll know you can trust him when you start to trust him and he doesn't let you down, time after time. Dawn said that when he came to her house that night of your breakdown, he was afraid to be left alone with you because he didn't think anyone trusted him. So Dawn told him he'd have to be given the trust to prove he deserved it. He did fine that night. He learned a few things about what went wrong and how to fix them, and he learned how to be the bigger man when he found out about Davy (whatever that means, since I don't even know because Davy won't tell me). He just needs time to build up a track record. So set him simple tasks and tests to begin with and build his confidence. That's what I told Jan all those years ago about how to get Davy on board with her. I still don't know what role you played in their breakup..."

Gabby snapped indignantly "Absolutely zero direct role, Lynda, on my word of honor. If you want the nitty gritty about why they broke up, you'll have to ask Davy. It's not my secret to tell. As for Davy and me and what passed between ourselves, it's deeply emotional for him. Well, for both of us really. But mostly for him. I did a dear friend a favor he requested and that's all. And I have no regrets except that it didn't seem to have helped him in the way he was hoping. But listen, please talk to Davy about this. It's mostly his private business. Someday, if he gives me permission, I'll give you my point of view on what we did, why I did it, and what it meant to me. But I can't and shouldn't speak for him. You of all people should understand what it's like to make a sacrifice for Davy because he was in need of the support only you could provide. That's all I did. I supported him, and he's repaid me many times over these last horrible months. He's a dear friend."

"I know you see him that way, Gabby, but it can't have escaped your notice that he's falling apart. I don't think there's anything you can do to help him other than to state unequivocally what your position is. Oh and to move out of his home if you're not going to be his lass. I think at this point you're being selfish. You're draining his spirit and I don't think he can take much more of it. If you feel unsafe about living alone, I'm willing to leave my place and share a flat with you until you straighten things out with Micky."

"Oh, Lynda, I hear you about it being prudent and wise for me to leave Davy, but aside from my safety concerns, I think it might kill his spirit. But I will think about it. Though I'll tell you right now I can't accept your offer, kind as it is, because you couldn't physically protect me from Micky if he came around and got angry. That's most of the reason why I'm at Davy's.

"But listen, speaking of your living arrangements, I was talking to Robert tonight and I wanted to ask you about an idea I had for you two. He said he was in the market for a better paying job so that you two can afford to get hitched and maybe get on with your lives. I'm not sure if that includes kids or if it just means allowing you to take a riskier career trajectory. In any case, I started thinking, my assistant is about to leave me to have a child and become a full-time mother. Would you mind if I offer the job to Robert? It pays way more than the bookseller job he has now, and I think it will give him a sense of purpose. Plus, I'm keen on getting more men involved in the organization. We need diversity and equal voices. We're making this big push for the Equal Rights Amendment, and I think having some men willing to stand up and represent the cause would be a really galvanizing force. Is it okay with you if I offer it to him?"

Lynda smiled broadly and said "Gabby, you're like everyone's fairy godmother."

Gabby laughed. "Well, officially, I'm Charlotte's godmother, but I'm happy to buy Robert a silver teething ring and have it engraved if you don't think that's too kinky!" The two girls broke up into paroxysms of laughter.

"Yes, please, do offer him the job. Then maybe I can finally pursue becoming a costume designer, or could I even afford to stop working and have a baby?"

Gabby nodded. "Yeah, we've got a rich male benefactor who's always haranguing me to hire a dude. I'll see if I can get him to kick in some more salary money, but it's going to mean he'll be traveling like I do. On the upside, you're less likely to have happen to you what happened to me with Micky when he went away because I'll keep my eye on him." Her eyes were jaded with black humor.

Lynda reached for her hand and said "Don't lose your sense of wonder, possibility, romance and faith in the basic goodness of human nature, Gabby."

"I'll try not to. Now you go get Robert and send him over to me and I'll pop the question, so to speak." Robert came over, Gabby told him about the job and he accepted immediately. She told him he'd be starting in February and to go ahead and give his notice at the bookstore. Lynda drifted over and the two of them thanked her and they all hugged. Gabby commented "It will be really great to have a man around who's down for the cause, Robert. We really need men to raise their voices to help people understand that women's rights are human rights. They're not some privilege we're asking to be handed."

The cake had arrived and everyone sang Happy Birthday to Davy and Mike. A few gag gifts were bestowed and opened. Mike and Davy put their arms around each other and sang _Daddy's Song_ , a tune from their movie _Head_ , which Mike had vied with Davy to sing. 

Everyone speculated at what it would have looked like to see Mike tippity tapping out the dance steps in the black and white tuxedos. Suiting deed to words, Mike, who had had a few drinks and was feeling jovial, began to do the dance that Davy had done in the movie, showing that he could have nailed the part had he been given a shot. Then he and Davy performed the part where Toni Basil comes in and Davy allowed himself to be hoisted up by Mike like Toni had. Everyone was roaring with laughter and wiping tears from their eyes. Gabby looked around and took a moment to appreciate the pure joy they were experiencing as a family, just what she always yearned for and had tried to keep alive all these years. As her eyes scanned the room, she noticed Micky gazing at her, and their eyes met, silently communicating all sorts of melancholy for lost days and happier times. They both teared up and the moment passed as each looked away from the other with embarrassment or fear that it had been too intimate an exchange.

Finally, it was time to go home. But Davy was in no condition to drive himself home. He was plastered and still singing Monkees songs, looking for dance partners, and commending everyone on what good friends they were to throw him this birthday party. Jan scurried over to Gabby and pulled her aside.

"Gabby, Davy's wasted. He can't drive himself home. Can you take him?"

Gabby's shoulders reached her ears as she cringed at the thought of Micky finding out she and Davy were living together. "Oh, God, Jan, but what if," and she gestured over towards Micky, who appeared to be speaking about something serious with Peter and Dawn.

Jan realized now that Davy's commitment to Gabby had not just been about trying to woo her. He felt responsible for her safety. Suddenly, she felt both great sympathy towards him and great anger towards the burden Gabby was putting on him. "Well, Gabby, this is a fine mess we're in! What about if I take Davy home with me?"

Gabby clutched at Jan's arm with terror and said "But then I'd be by myself!"

Jan was starting to do a slow burn now. She had had it up to her eyebrows with Gabby's problems taking over Davy's life, consuming all his emotional resources as well as his time and energy. "Gabby, do you mean to tell me you can't be alone for one night? Why not?"

Gabby glanced down on the ground thoroughly ashamed and now aware that Jan was losing patience with her and didn't realize the depth of her fear, the history of her trauma, or the fragility of her mental health. "Jan, I'm sorry, we don't know each other that well and I can see why you think that sounds unreasonable. I wish I could have the opportunity to explain it to you, but right here in the parking lot isn't the place."

Jan took a deep breath and then tried to walk the talk she had preached to Davy earlier in the evening. Pushing hostility Gabby's way was not only unfair, but it would be cruel if it was based on information she was lacking about some serious reasons for her needing to not be left alone. "Okay, well let me drop him off with you."

"Jan, thank you. I really do want to sit with you and explain. Maybe you'll come in and stay after we get Mr. Twinkletoes to bed and we can talk."

Jan smiled and said "Okay, I'd like that."

Jan went over to Davy and explained that she would be driving Davy home to his apartment and he could catch a ride with Gabby back to the restaurant in the morning to fetch his car. He was fairly pliant and didn't ask any questions. She just poured him into her car, finished saying goodbye to everyone, and drove off.

As they drove away, Micky ventured "Hey, maybe they're going to give it another go! That would be nice." Nobody contradicted him, but they didn't jump on board with his optimism either. They all knew better by now that Davy was smitten with Gabby and that was that.

Gabby said goodbye to everyone, merely waiving to Micky and he did the same, accepting with good grace that he had received the limit of the amount of contact she felt comfortable exchanging. She drove home and went up to Davy's apartment, finding Jan in the process of tucking him into bed. She made a decision and asked "Jan, will you stick around for a bit and we can talk? I need to walk the dogs and we can stroll around the Marina a bit."

Jan agreed and Gabby and she took a dog each. After a few minutes of silence, Gabby took the bull by the horns. "Jan, I know you're frustrated with me and my whole situation and how it's taking over Davy's life. Or at least I'm sure that's how it seems to you. But I swear, I'm not here under sufferance. Davy asked me, basically ordered me to move in here with him. He wanted to take care of me and I very gratefully accepted."

Jan sniffed "And when will it end, Gabby? Where are you going to draw the line? Davy's got a life to live and he's withering away, in case you haven't noticed."

Gabby nodded. "Yes, of course I've noticed. And you're not the first person to call it to my attention just to make sure I did notice. Lynda said something about it to me tonight as well. Please believe me, Jan, if this were an ordinary situation, you'd have every right to think I was just a selfish bloodsucker and Davy was a pushover. But it's more complicated than that. Will you let me explain?"

Jan shrugged her shoulders and said "Sure, go ahead."

As they made a long circuit around the whole marina, Gabby took Jan back in time, to Gabby's college days, and gave her the down and dirty about what Nick had done to her. She explained why Micky's leaving her, infidelity and use of drugs and alcohol was so triggering to her of the same trauma dating back to what had happened with Nick, which explained her seemingly out-sized reaction to what should just have been outrage over a faithless husband. She wasn't just mad or upset, she was traumatized, terrified and in need of a friend who could look after her. She said she realized that it looked like she was taking far more than she was giving Davy, but that they had a complicated relationship that predated Jan's arrival on the scene. Jan revealed that Davy had spilled to her about that component, though he hadn't been explicit.

Gabby sighed and conceded "I'm beginning to think that pretty much the only person who doesn't know about us at this point is Micky, but only just. He figured out most of it the night of the Christmas party. The only part he doesn't know is that I slept with Davy and that I did it for a reason related to friendship, not lust or revenge. But sooner or later he's going to find out, which is what makes me even more scared to be on my own. Oh, Jan, don't you see that I realize I'm bleeding Davy dry, but he's almost forcing me to do it. We're in a sick, co-dependent relationship at this point. We each have something the other desperately needs, and reason and logic have nothing to do with it. I realized tonight after speaking with Lynda that I have to figure out a different living situation. I just don't know what to do or where to go. I feel like I need a roommate, but it would have to be a guy who could defend me against a six-foot one, angry, jealous husband. I can't live by myself in just any old place because the dogs are no protection at all. They love Micky. He's their dad. What should I do?"

Jan mused and said "You know, Santa Monica has a few buildings with doormen. What about if you and I go check those out? And if that isn't enough security for you, you could rent a big place in one of them and advertise for a male roommate who's willing to take on an angry husband." She smiled and Gabby giggled.

"Thanks, Jan. I'd appreciate it if you'd help me with that. I don't think I'd be all that coherent if I went by myself because of my anxiety. Can you do all the thinking for me and I'll just trust your judgment? I know there I go again, asking for things and not giving back."

Jan shook her head. "No, you're wrong there, Gabby. I'm never gonna get Davy back until I get you out of that apartment!" She tickled Gabby in the ribs to make sure she knew she was joking and that it was a matter of common cause now between them.

"I'd be very happy if you two got back together, Jan. Honestly. Davy shouldn't be waiting around to see what happens with me and Micky. Even if we don't make it, I might never fall in love with Davy. I love him as a friend and that's all I know. I'd never once given a thought to anything otherwise before he came to me that night and asked me to put him out of his misery and give myself to him, and even while we were together and after, I told him I wouldn't allow my mind to go there until I was in a position to contemplate it freely and in a way he deserved. I swear to you, Jan, nothing has passed between us since that one night."

"I know, Gabby. Davy told me, and his misery tells the story. If you'd have been giving it up to him, even once in a while, he'd be happier. So you didn't take advantage of him. No 'friends with benefits' even. That's something I respect." Now she began to smile with glittering teeth "Because I myself could not possibly resist that lil' munchkin if I were staying in that apartment every night. So you _must_ really be in love with Micky. And you really _must not_ be in love with Davy. And you really _must_ love and respect him as a friend. I'm sorry if I gave you a hard time. I didn't know your backstory or that it was still haunting you and affecting you so severely."

Gabby stopped and gave her a hug. "So you'll help me find a safe place to live?"

Jan nodded. "Yeah, I'm on it. Though know that I myself am not as altruistic as you are. The minute you leave Davy's place, I intend to do a full-court press to get him back. I hope that doesn't cause any weirdness for you or him."

"Not on my part, though Jan, please take care of yourself. He may still be mooning after me and might not have his head straight and pass up for a second time the best woman he ever met. Please protect your heart."

Jan shrugged "Hey, he's already busted it wide open. At this point, I figure I have nothing to lose. He already knows I'm waiting for you to leave the scene and I'm still in love with him because I told him. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me, but thanks."

They finished walking the dogs and Gabby walked Jan to her car. Then they embraced and Jan promised to be in touch that week with plans to visit apartment buildings. Gabby thanked her and walked with the dogs back to Davy's place. She sighed as she realized that the discussion with Davy about this would probably be a dagger to his heart, even if he knew it was time to cut the cord. She dreaded hurting him by leaving, but she knew she was hurting him by staying. There was simply nothing she could do for him to make him happy and well, other than to give him the one thing she didn't have to give – her unconditional commitment to romantic love. She had thought that the two of them might someday arrive at that place if it was right for both of them, but the longer her own situation with Micky took to resolve, the more arduous a toll it took on Davy, and if she was honest with herself, she didn't know if she could ever imagine the type of friendship love she felt for Davy morphing into something else. She would never know unless she allowed certain barriers to be obliterated, and as long as they stood her system revolted against the notion. That's just the way it had to be. She knew that Davy understood that, didn't fault her for it, but nonetheless he was suffering and she hoped he'd allow her to try to release him from his suffering, or convince him that letting her go would open the doors to his self-built prison. She decided not to say anything to him until she had lined up a new place to live, so that he couldn't try to talk her out of it or persuade her that no other safe arrangements existed. She had to at least see what else was out there. She'd trust Jan and go with her suggestion.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment, give kudos and let a friend know that this story exists. I'd like to know who is reading this story and it's a pleasure to interact with you. Thanks for reading.


End file.
